


No one's.

by beebuzz, writingboom



Series: Whose are you? [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Drunk Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Past Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu, Post-Time Skip, Rough Sex, brief overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28118103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beebuzz/pseuds/beebuzz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingboom/pseuds/writingboom
Summary: Hinata is over him- or at least, under someone else. Atsumu shouldn’t have such a problem doing the same. Pining for someone who doesn’t want him isn’t doing him any good. Holding onto Hinata is worse than forcing himself to let go too soon, right? Just rip the bandage off and hope it doesn’t take too much skin with it.-ongoing part of our series but can be read alone-
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: Whose are you? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900099
Comments: 19
Kudos: 205





	1. Chapter 1

Each morning Atsumu wakes up starfished on the mattress-  _ alone- hot- otiose- sweaty- _ he feels more exhausted each day, more fed up but somehow more apathetic. 

The sun is peering through the cracks of his curtains; but there’s a softness to the edges and a shadow curving along the wall that says it’s early. As if to spite the calm morning and his own festering lethargy, the world around him is more alive than he’s felt in weeks. It’s screaming at him through the open window- the breeze and the repetitive, thrumming shriek of cicadas. 

Summer had been his favorite season. 

Once. 

Once when the sweltering sun wasn’t trying to kill him. Or had killed him considering ginger hair and hazel eyes had been his sun for so long. 

_ Fuck, it’s hot. _

He feels dead lying atop his damp sheet. Dead knowing there’s still a box of Hinata’s shit ready to mock him once he sits up and starts another meaningless day. He didn’t know what was worse- furnishing an apartment that didn’t have a trace of Hinata in it or finding out some of his things had been haphazardly grabbed and packed away when Atsumu frantically moved out. 

He’s already stubbed his toe on the box four times. He should just throw it out the window. Let a car run it over and drag it as far away from him as it can-

He won’t. 

He’ll give it back. 

Or he’ll make Hinata come get it. And he’ll be somewhere else. Rub it in Hinata’s face that he can no longer come and go as he pleases through Atsumu’s space. Make him stand there for an hour before showing up and letting him come get one measly box.

Atsumu could just bring it to practice. Dump it all over the grimey locker room floor and make Hinata pick it up while he stands there and laughs-

He won’t.

The team doesn’t need to know they weren’t living together anymore.

They don’t even know they’re broken up. Probably won’t care. They’ll just mock Atsumu for failing and driving away someone as affable as Hinata.

He should probably tell some of them.

_ No,  _ Hinata should tell them- he should have to deal with the discomfort of explaining what happened. What he did. It’s his fault anyway.

_ It’s your fault. _

Right, Atsumu  _ is  _ unlovable after all. Osamu’s told him that for years, hasn’t he? Gross, rude, ill-tempered, selfish, arrogant, inattentive- he should really tell them-

Before it eats him alive. Before he’s nothing more than a sweat stained mattress and a shell of immaterial memories, 

_ Eh, who needs memories anyway- _

_ Shit,  _ it’s hard to think when it’s this hot. 

The fan facing the bed isn’t enough. The most it’s doing is blowing his fringe back and forth, tickling at his nose and making his face scrunch up with every pass across the room. 

It’s only July- he doesn’t want to consider how miserable August will become. 

This summer is going to be  _ long _ . Days stretching like scorching sidewalks that dare to burn holes in the bottoms of his sneakers if he stands still for too long. 

Maybe it would feel nice, melted plastic pooling around his feet. Something to distract from the slide of sweat down the bend of his arm and the deep ache in his gut that seems to be sticking around for good. 

It’s hot. 

He misses when things were merely warm. 

He misses a lot of things.

Misses things he’s not allowed to miss anymore.

He misses Hinata when it’s inconvenient. It never happens when the sun’s up and he’s busy, going about his day like everything’s fine. It always creeps in when he gives himself a break- a moment to be quiet- let's himself simmer in this weird mix of regret and frustration. 

The loneliness, the bitterness, it seems to boil away under his skin even when he’s surrounded by people. Even when he should be celebrating a win. Everyone else is. His teammates are scattered around the bar, loudly recounting all their greatest moments from the match- he's usually right there with them. Half the shit their gloating about wouldn’t have been possible without him anyway. He’s a part of every bit of it. Except the one thing he still wishes he was.

He can’t engage like this. He can’t yell and laugh and brag because his entire being is caught up on the pinky finger brushing against the side of Hinata’s forearm. Just subtle enough that it’s probably not noticeable if someone isn't looking for it. 

Atsumu can’t seem to focus on anything else. 

Hinata brought Kageyama. 

Because of course he did. 

And Bokuto invited Akaashi. 

Because of course he would. 

And now Atsumu is by himself. 

Because that’s apparently how things are supposed to be.

He really should have worked harder at convincing Meian to come.

But Meian probably would have brought his wife.

Atsumu probably would have still been alone.

He has a half-full glass in his hand with an empty one resting cold and wet against his knuckles. The first one hadn’t done much for him other than make him hot. His forehead is itchy, beading a little bit of sweat as he stares at Bokuto shoving skewer after skewer of yakitori in his mouth while babbling toward  Akaashi’s slow nods. It’s gross watching him smack his mouth around every word but the disgust is better than whatever feeling had leapt into his throat the second he saw who followed Hinata in. 

They’d  _ just  _ had a game- why was he here? They’d walked here together from the gym- when did Hinata have time to call him? This is about the team- why was he invited at all? 

It was bound to happen eventually- but it’s only been a few months. 

Hinata still hadn’t said anything- what right does he have bringing Kageyama around when the rest of the team is still in the dark? Maybe it’s just because he knows Atsumu won’t say anything first. And this way he can’t throw a fit. This way he just has to sit there and watch and accept this is how things are now. 

No- Hinata wouldn’t be that cruel- 

But then again, Atsumu had thought he wasn’t capable of a lot of things- and look where that got him. 

When a bit of sauce makes its way from Bokuto’s mouth, over his lip, starting down his chin- Atsumu looks away with a grimace. Even  _ he  _ didn’t eat that sloppily. Eyes sliding to the side, he catches the back of a head and remembers the empty chair beside him had once been filled by a hunched back and a displeasure possibly even more palpable than his own. 

The rim of his glass is to his lips in an instant. Chilled, dark liquor runs fast down his throat before the glass is slammed back to the table and his chair is skirting loudly out from under him. There's a vague -  _ Atsumu? -  _ from the table, but he doesn’t want to know who it came from on the off chance Hinata suddenly decided to worry about him again. 

He steps heavy and it feels a little slow and-  _ okay-  _ maybe the first two drinks had done a little more than just warm him up. But he blinks and breathes in and everything levels out by the time he reaches the bar. He doesn’t ask, he barely even glances to the side before sliding up into the seat. 

“Y’know Omi-Omi,” Arm out, Atsumu waves the bartender down. “The point of going out as a team is to spend time with said team. Not to look like an angry lecher all hunched over his drink.” 

Sakusa doesn’t look at him. The most Atsumu gets is Sakusa shifting away slightly and tucking his arm closer to his side. “I don’t want to be here.”

“Then why are ya?”

Something is muttered to his right, but Atsumu doesn’t pay it any mind as he rattles off another order to the bartender and throws it on the team’s tab.

“Sugary cocktails are bound to get ya a hangover.” This time, Sakusa blatantly ignores his remark. He can’t help but try again, push a little further. “I didn’t know you’d be the one for such a girly drink. Is that whipped cream-?”  Atsumu leans in closer- gets an elbow in his chest for it. “And a cherry? My, my, Omi- so sweet and delicate. What an interesting choice for such a bitter man.” 

Jabbing his elbow again, Sakusa forces him to back off a bit. Atsumu settles on his stool, finally being greeted with another glass from the bartender. He takes an eager sip, one that burns just as much as the last but leaves a numbing tingle in its wake. He almost has the nerve to smile at the incoming fog; but a sharp wind blows through just as fast and it all dissipates. 

“Your sets were too low today.”

“Hah?” Atsumu’s drink meets the bar with a clumsy sling of his arm. He turns, curling over the counter and barking shrilly, “No they were not!” 

Eyes up at the tv mounted on the wall, Sakusa’s brow pinches just barely. “Either they were lower than usual or I changed how high I can jump over night. I’ll let you figure out which is more likely.” 

“Maybe it was neither.” With a harsh curve to his back, Atsumu bumps his elbows up onto the bar to hunch over it. “S’not my fault you think too much before hittin’ the ball. All that bullshit goin’ on in yer head just made you swing late and that’s why they seemed lower.” 

Drink between his hands, he pushes them together with the futile attempt to squeeze the rigid glass until it shatters. Cut up hands would surely be enough of an excuse to leave this place for good. Cut up hands means he wouldn’t be able to set for a while and maybe that’s for the best. Hinata probably doesn’t want to see him as much as they have to.  _ Clearly,  _ he’s been falling short for the rest of the team without even realizing it. Enough that everyone’s probably noticed. They struggled to pick up his slack, hadn’t they? He should just let them all find someone better- 

“Do you not trust me to get the fuckin’ ball to ya?” He spares the glass, wiping the condensation off on his jeans. Without volleyball, what else does he have? Being a lousy setter is better than not playing at all, right? “I’m gonna get it where it needs to be so don’t worry about how high it is and just hit it.” 

Sakusa doesn’t give him a moment to come up with another excuse before shrugging all the words away with a simple rebuttal. 

“You were off your game.” 

“We won so what does it matter?” 

“I didn’t think you were capable of accepting a less than adequate performance.” 

“It wasn’t  _ that _ bad!” With a rough sigh and another swig, Atsumu drops his voice into a grumble. “Can we stop talking about fuckin’ volleyball? It’s givin’ me a headache.” 

At that, Sakusa turns. It’s an abrupt movement, especially compared to the gangly, stick bug pace he usually moves with. Atsumu looks up at the shift- For a moment, Sakusa’s eyes are a little wider before they settle quickly to bore right into him. Something brief but peculiar had flashed through the gaze trained on his face until it was promptly snuffed out.

Atsumu wants to pick at it- nudge Sakusa into giving him a hint about whatever thought had crossed his mind- but he only manages to open his mouth. There’s a bump into his shoulder and a loud voice behind him that takes up all the room he has to say anything else.

“Sorry- Is anyone sitting here?” A girl asks, pressed over the stool beside him. 

“ _ Wah? _ ” He starts as he twists. His brain catches up quickly and shakes along with his head. “Nah, s’all yers.” 

He’s turning himself around before she even has a chance to slide onto the stool. Sakusa has busied himself with staring absently at the screen above the bar once more. An old baseball game is flicking across the screen. Atsumu caught the end of it when it aired- Yokohama won- he wants to tell him. Ruin it if Sakusa’s even the least bit interested. Pull his attention back down to him. 

“Hey, y’know-” It’s all he gets out before there’s a tapping on his arm just above the elbow. 

He pivots to find the girl’s bob cut swaying as she tips herself forward on the chair and fully latches onto his arm. 

“What’re you drinking?” 

His eyes fall to his glass, then her hand, then back up while he slides his arms down off the bar with a shake from her hold. 

“Just whiskey and soda.” He instantly goes to move away, but she’s leaning forward again. 

Peering down at the dark liquid, she smiles with a tip of her head up at him. 

“Looks almost gone- maybe you should get us more? I’d love to try it.” 

The intent is as obvious as it is painful. He wonders for a brief, sluggish moment if this is how it feels when he imposes on everyone’s space. “I’m good for now.” The thought leaves him just as quick as it came. His imposition is just part of his charm- surely, they’d have abandoned him by now if they didn’t like it. 

_ Ah,  _ maybe that’s one of the reasons Hinata  _ did _ abandon him- 

He wonders suddenly if Hinata has seen what’s happening. If he knows this girl is trying to start something with him- if he’d even care if he did see. 

Atsumu tries to look over his shoulder, across the bar over to where Hinata is sitting; but his vision gets blocked once again as the girl darts to meet his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Her voice is sweet, but her stare is pining and demanding. 

“Not really.” Tuning back in, his mouth pulls down slightly at the question. “I’m kinda tryin’ to talk to my friend.” 

The lack of a grumbled  _ “We’re not friends” _ is odd, but Atsumu can’t wonder about it too much when there’s a horrible expression being shot up at him from the pretty curve of this girl’s face. 

“Sorry.” He offers next, but it sounds completely void of sentiment even to his own, obtuse, tipsy brain. 

The lack of sincerity is not lost on her either. Her sneer only worsens as she picks herself up off the stool and slips away without an inch of Atsumu’s skin itching to call her back over. 

When he turns in his seat this time, he flinches. Sakusa’s eyes have fallen from the tv to instead stare with their void nature right back at Atsumu’s surprise. He's closer than he was before. Nowhere near close enough that Atsumu feels the need to lean away- but significantly closer than Sakusa usually acts as though he can stomach. 

“I, uh-” 

“Are you sick?” Sakusa spits at him, forehead all pinched together and eyes thin. 

“I don’t think so-” 

“You gave up a seemingly perfect opportunity to milk baseless compliments out of a stranger, I can only assume you’re delirious.” 

Atsumu’s breath leaves him like a huff. He turns back to the bar, pursing his lips down at his drink before bringing it to his lips for a final gulp. “Maybe I’m just not up for it tonight. I’d rather get my compliments from you anyway, Omi.” 

“So, you  _ are _ delirious.” Atusmu hunches at how easily he’s shut down. Normally, it wouldn’t bother him- it's not as though Sakusa is ever particularly pleasant with him- but tonight, it seems to dig a bit deeper into his already wounded confidence.“I’m surprised there’s not a squawking crow making a scene over someone trying to steal its trash away like there usually is.” 

The guilt of his and Hinata’s collective silence about the entire calamity weighs on Atsumu once more. The urge to spit the truth is as vile as always- he wants it out of his mouth- out of his entire body- but it stays dripping over every taste bud, stuck and tacky like sludge.

Sakusa takes his time finishing off the rest of his drink. The lack of a rebuttal from Atsumu seems to make him cut his eyes over as he swallows. And that look, parsing him apart and trying to figure out every unusual shift in his being, is enough to force the whiplash of the comment through Atsumu’s muscles. 

He blurts an excuse as he ducks down and jolts off the stool. “Gotta piss.” 

He doesn’t look back at whatever expression came to Sakusa’s face at the remark. He can already see how displeased it is in his thoughts - but his head stoops a little lower and his eyes watch the concrete floor move below him as he weaves around people toward the bathroom. His gaze doesn't even stray when he passes close to the table where he hears the distinct boom of Bokuto’s laugh and something unintelligible but clearly excited from Hinata’s chipper, trilling voice. 

If anything, his steps fall a bit quicker. 

The bathroom is empty when the door swings shut behind him. He’s grateful for it- the stillness empties out the rough sigh from where it was being held tight in his chest.

Despite the constant droning and cooing of his usual demeanor, silence- solitude- is where he usually finds his moments of clarity. He’d spent countless afternoons as a child holed up in his room when he was especially annoyed. The door stayed locked so Osamu couldn’t get in- usually that just made him yell and bang on it- but Atsumu could always drown it out with a pillow.

Here, the beginnings of a buzz making his head swim certainly isn’t helping, but at least he’s alone. The music is quieter in here. There aren't any conversations to eavesdrop on because he feels like he  _ has _ to. There are no eyes and stares that he can feel on his back with every move he makes. No possible mutterings of why he’s hunched over the bar with someone he claims he can’t stand or why he’s had so much to drink in the first place or why he can’t meet his  _ not- _ boyfriend’s eyes. There’s only a soft thrum of a bass line and his own, ragged breathing. And with it comes the deluge of self-beratement-

_ What are you doing?  _

_ What are you thinking?  _

_ Where do you go from here? _

Hinata is over him- or at least, under someone else. Atsumu shouldn’t have such a problem doing the same. Pining for someone who doesn’t want him isn’t doing him any good. Holding onto Hinata is worse than forcing himself to let go too soon, right? Just rip the bandage off and hope it doesn’t take too much skin with it. 

It would be pretty easy to find someone in a crowded bar- but it won’t feel right. Or good. Or healthy. He’s sure it’ll leave him in a lower state than he already is. Feeling easy. Dirty. Desperate. He can’t allow himself to fall so far. Not for someone he doesn’t know- and who won’t feel obligated to stick around and pity him afterwards. 

But the thought of leaving alone feels equally as hollow. His empty apartment is waiting to mock him for another night. The unfamiliar rooms grow larger in the darkness. The walls grin at him, wait for him to fall asleep so they can swallow him whole. He misses having someone to guard his back. He used to hate sleeping next to another person. All those nights on holidays and school trips spent in a small bed with Osamu’s knee in his back or elbow in his cheek- he swore he wouldn't ever share a bed once he grew up unless he had to. 

He never hung around after hookups. His past relationships hadn’t lasted long enough for a routine to set in. He preferred his own bed and the easy quiet. 

Then he started seeing Hinata. Then, he learned the comfort in falling asleep to the feeling of someone’s soft breathing against his neck- or with a hand stroking down his side- or the sound of subtle snoring that was just endearing enough that he couldn’t be annoyed by it- 

It became another thing he didn’t want to go without. Something he doesn’t think he  _ can _ go without. 

He hasn’t slept well since Hinata left. 

He’s tired. Staring into the smudged mirror of a disgusting bathroom, he looks tired. Contemplating shoving himself against a stranger- or passing out in an alley just so it’s not his somber room- or taking the train all the way to his brother and barging into his apartment come near daybreak- he decides he’s just too tired to do any of it. 

He decides he has to do  _ something _ instead. Whatever that may be. 

A splash of cold water against his cheeks doesn’t seem to help determine what it is, but at least it shocks his thoughts enough that they stop derailing for a moment. 

After patting the water from his face, the paper is crumpled and tossed into the direction of the trash just before he pushes back through the door. 

The room seems even louder now that he’d gotten used to the brief quiet. It causes a fuzzy sort of overload that centers his vision straight ahead until he’s out of the tight hallway and making his way back toward the bar. 

The seats he and Sakusa were at are empty now. A short glance leads him back to the table where-  _ yeah,  _ there he is. Talking to whoever was left at the table- Atsumu doesn’t really have the time to account for everyone before Sakusa was turning away from them. He has a mask and his jacket back on now, hands shoved in the pockets, head ducked low. Those small, very obvious signs, mean he’s leaving and that seems to strike up a new sort of urgency. 

Atsumu’s making his way through the bar before he questions what the plan is. Something says follow, so he does. Something says don’t look back, so he doesn’t. 

Sakusa glances behind him once he’s walking toward the exit- whether it’s just an afterthought or whether he’s actually looking to find the way Atsumu is weaving through people behind him- he can’t be sure. But then it happens again as Sakusa breaks through the door with an elbow to the crash bar- _doesn’t hold it open-_ and again, a final time, as he starts down the street. 

“What are you doing?” He calls- the loudness of it startling Atsumu into stepping quicker to catch up to him.

Hunkered down, mirroring the posture with hands in his back pockets, Atsumu trails in his shadow. “Who?”

“ _ Who? _ ” Sakusa parrots like a scoff. “Why are you following me?”

“It’s still pretty warm- you really need a jacket in this weather?” The air is cooler once the sun goes down, but there’s a lingering haze that never seems to clear the city till autumn. He hasn’t stopped sweating since May. “Surely you’re not still coolin’ down from the game?”

“ _ Why _ are you following me, Miya,” Sakusa demands again, just as irritated as the first time- if not moreso.

Atsumu’s kick at the sidewalk is rough. It shocks its way up his legs and tickles at the tired muscles of his thighs. “Don’t got anywhere else to be or go.”

Some sort of weird sound rolls over in Sakusa’s throat. Atsumu can’t tell if it’s one of disbelief or derision- it’s undoubtedly unpleasant but the more he tries to remember the inflection the more lost he gets. But then Sakusa is looking back over his shoulder and there’s something questioning in that glare. 

“Alright, I’ll bite.” He declares to the sky. It’s vehement, irked- it shrinks Atsumu down to the size of his waning confidence. “Not only did you spend far longer than usual trying your best to annoy me- It’s not like you to detach yourself from Hinata’s hip for longer than absolutely necessary. I really don’t care to know why, but you’re both being weird and now it’s messing with  _ you _ , which messed with  _ my  _ ability to do my job.” Sakusa stops, his feet smacking the pavement and his spine twisting so he’s curved awkwardly to watch the way Atsumu has to stumble to avoid running into him. “Did you even say anything before you left?” 

Hunching over further, Atsumu’s gaze falls to the side. “It’s whatever.”

It’s  _ not _ whatever. And it’s  _ not _ convincing.

“From the amount of times you’ve forcibly boasted about it in my ear; I thought you pride yourself on being a self-declared  _ amazing boyfriend- _ Tell me, is jeopardizing our win and abruptly wandering away with no apparent aim or intention other than getting on my nerves-”

Atsumu sighs aggressively loud. It nearly sounds like a growl with how it crackles through his throat. His eyes narrow in on the crack beneath his shoe and he bites out the first thing his muddled thoughts come up with. 

“Yeah, okay- I get it- ‘cause again,  _ it’s whatever- _ it’s not... fine, look- it’s all good because it’s not like I’m still his fuckin’ boyfriend anymore- so my bad, or  _ sorry _ , or whatever the fuck else you wanna hear.”

The night settles around them like dust disturbed by a sudden breeze to show off Atsumu’s rawness underneath. Crude and incomplete. It flutters back down just as fast, covering the surface once more as he steels himself behind a glower. 

With the way the words slid all jagged and poison-laced over his tongue, Atsumu notes the second time admitting it wasn’t any easier than the first. The third time will probably taste just as bad. And the fourth- and the fifth- and- 

Well, at least this time he doesn’t feel like crying. Hopefully that stays true, as well, from here on out. 

He didn’t cry for the longest time. Not when Hinata first told him. Not when he left Hinata later that night. Not after Atsumu saw him at practice and had to act like everything was fine. Not even when he packed everything up and moved into his new apartment. 

No, it took Osamu’s sympathetic regard and a soft breath of, _“I’m truly sorry, Tsumu”_ when Atsumu finally told him what happened to have his ribs collapsing and his entire body slumping against his brother’s hold. He doesn’t remember how long he stood shaking and rubbing his snotty face all over Osamu’s shirt. It wasn’t long enough that their dinner burned while it cooked away on the stove, but it was certainly long enough for his head to ache and his stomach to quiver with how tight it became after pushing out sob after racking sob. 

He tends to lose track of time when his head gets louder than his tongue. His vision goes a little fuzzy and his mouth parts for air and he exists solely at the mercy of his glaringly fractured but taped-together ego. 

The present is no different. 

How long have they been standing there? 

How long have they just been staring holes into each other but really seeing nothing at all? 

Or maybe that’s just him. Maybe Sakusa sees right through to the very abyss chipping away at his muscle and bone every time he breathes and tries not to shake through a sigh on the exhale. But whenever those dark eyes focus on him- somehow all-consuming even behind the slit of low lids- Atsumu is startled. 

Voice flat, quiet enough not to stretch farther than the few steps between them, Sakusa hums, “That’s it then.” 

Atsumu straightens up, eyes going a little wide with the realization- 

_ Yeah _ , Sakusa definitely sees right through him. 

How embarrassing. 

“What?” He plays it off, because, what else is there to do? 

But Sakusa doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he turns forward and keeps walking as if nothing new was uncovered. 

It’s not like Atsumu was expecting consolation. Or shock. He’s pretty sure nothing short of walking in on a murder scene would be enough to stun Sakusa- even then, the fraying of his nerves would most likely be more from the bloody mess left behind than the act itself. 

Still, he sort of expected something. 

He’s sure some cruel part of him wishes for someone to complain at. Osamu hasn’t been good for that- he barely knows anyone on the team. He’s let Atsumu gripe when they’ve both felt up to it; but in the end, he just tries to be comforting and it’s weird. It doesn’t make Atsumu’s suffering any less intolerable. He  _ knows _ nothing but time can help, but- bitching should ease things. It has to. He has to find some sort of solace before he goes crazy. He just has to get the right person. He can’t say his snippy little comments to his brother without feeling bad immediately after. Osamu doesn’t talk about people like that- at least, no one other than Atsumu- and something about it never sits right. 

So, maybe that’s why he thought telling Sakusa would be different. Sakusa, who is just as quick to point out people’s shortcomings as Atsumu is. He just does it differently; a little less caustic about it than Atsumu. When Sakusa tells someone what they’re doing wrong, it’s just a statement. A blatant fact, even. Atsumu just wishes he would’ve engaged this time- said something snarky in return to make Atsumu feel-  _ what?  _ Justified?  _ Probably. _ Blameless? Did he still blame himself?  _ Yes. _

He speeds through the next couple of steps to catch up to Sakusa’s side. Falling into pace with the steady strides, his arms cross over his chest as he drags himself along. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?” 

“I already told you I don’t particularly care.” The immediate need to pout is strong but Atsumu’s lip just barely starts to get pulled between his teeth before Sakusa sighs. “But when has what I wanted ever kept you from talking?” 

Atsumu probably would have told him no matter what response he gave. He always found a painful relief in loudly grieving about his misfortunes, however fickle they may be. Like picking at a scab, scratching at his cuticles just enough to make them bleed- he couldn’t stop himself from inevitably rattling about every little thing even if he wanted to. 

Apparently, all it took this time was a bit of liquor and Sakusa’s near aggravating level of apathy. 

Atsumu really was as annoying as everyone said, wasn’t he? 

It’s laughable to think anyone’s ever liked him in the first place. 

“Well, what’s more appealing-” Atsumu tries to laugh in his haughty, airy tone, but it comes out a bit more exhausted than amused. “Me not talking and things staying weird and quiet- or you having a reason to be an ass to me despite my poor, bleeding, broken heart?” 

“You’re volunteering yourself to be ridiculed.” 

“No.” _He is, isn’t he?_ Why does being mocked seem like the best outcome right now? He tries, _fails_ , to play it off. “But it’s not like you know another way to talk to me.” 

Sakua’s steps stutter, but only in the way his foot falls against the sidewalk and his knee buckles just slightly as a result. He's quick to cover it, move the rest of his body a bit faster to compensate- but Atsumu had been timing their steps to distract himself. They’re out of rhythm and something about what he said- or the snide way he said it, maybe- had caused that. 

Sure, it seems pretty clear that Sakusa had seen something wrong with him since the beginning of the night- probably longer than that. But now, there are tiny pieces falling close enough together that Atsumu is beginning to see something too. They're both off.  _ Just drunk- _ he wants to argue with himself. 

“What did you do?” 

Atsumu’s scoff is noticeably forced. They both ignore it. “What makes you think  _ I _ did something?” 

“You’re petty. Irritable. Immature. Generally, an awful person to be around-” 

“Alright, I get it. But fuck you- plenty of people find me to be wonderful company.” Their steps fall back into place; but in his own petulant, spiteful way, Atsumu slides his heels across the concrete with each long stride. “And double fuck you because I didn’t do anything.” 

“Okay.”

“I didn’t!” 

“Sure. I’ll play along, then, if you stop dragging your feet like that. The sound is going to make my head implode.”

Despite the way his face twists, Atsumus straightens himself and picks each step off from the ground. If that somehow stops Sakusa from misplacing the blame just because he finds Atsumu the more annoying one of the former pair- then he’ll comply.

“What did Hinata do?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it-” 

His reply is a quick shot with the toss of his chin. Sakusa’s following groan is just as fast- lacking Atsumu’s snark but replacing it with utter frustration.

“My  _ god _ \- If my entire career didn’t depend on you being alive, I would’ve pushed you into the middle of the street by now. The next time a car comes by, I suggest you-”

“Hinata,” Words stopped short, Sakusa’s head turns just enough to slide his eyes over. “He’s- with someone else now.” 

“Makes sense.” Still not a hint of compassion in that tone. Atsumu’s teeth dig into his tongue to keep from frowning. Apparently, he’s not all that successful. “What? Did you think we’re all blind to the embarrassing act going on between you two lately? If we’re being honest now, Inunaki and I assumed he’d finally realized you’ll never care about anyone more than yourself-” 

“He cheated on me,  _ asshole _ .” 

And with it, comes the most bite Atsumu has put into the admission so far.

It could’ve been the knotted up mess of feelings he’d been tumbling through all evening catching up to him- or the fact that now he  _ knew _ people had been talking about them behind his back- or that somehow, even though Hinata was the one to fuck up and ruin shit, Atsumu was  _ still _ being thought of like the bad guy-

Whatever it was, those words burned when they came out. The night grew a tiny bit colder. He was still sweating.

But not even the worst rumble to his voice has ever seemed to rouse Sakusa toward anything other than mild indifference. 

“With Kageyama.” Sakusa’s remark comes off as a simple detail.

Atsumu may not respond, but he feels himself flinch. How can someone’s name feel like such a slap to the back of his head? Like he should have seen it coming all along and yet it still took him by surprise each and every time.

Sakusa hums despite no answer being given, but Atsumu is somehow thankful that it doesn’t sound as taunting as he thought it would.

It still hurt.

“Don’t act like you figured shit out.” 

“It’s been obvious something happened.” Someone seeing it so clearly, hurt. “I’ve never really bothered to know much about him but given their history-”

Feeling like the only one who was blind, hurt.

Stupid. Naive.

“Then how come no one said anything if it’s so damn obvious?”  _ deflect deflect deflect.  _ “Maybe you just pay too much attention- can’t keep yer eyes offa me, can ya?”

“And considering how close they were acting-” Sakusa continues without acknowledging a single word in between. “And you’re being much more intolerable than usual-”

“Just shut yer trap already.” Hunched over once more, Atsumu could feel his lip curl as he grumbled. “I said I don’t wanna talk about it and I fuckin’ meant it.”

“Except you do or you wouldn’t be following me.”

“I don’t!”

There’s a hand thumping against Atsumu’s chest before he can dodge it. Shot out from Sakusa’s jacket, the palm is spread over his shirt to stop him, punch the air out of him, startle him.

Leaning in low,  _ touching him _ , speaking quiet but direct,  _ since when does Sakusa touch him _ , “What do you want then?”

Atsumu is at a loss.

For words,

For a reason, 

For any thought past a confused  _ why?  _ and an even more desperate  _ I don’t know. _

His silence is answered with a nod. Just a single gesture- it feels condescending. He’s sure the sweat at the back of his neck is making his hair twist up. That’s why his pulse feels like it’s running cold. Hot skin in the cooling night.

Satisfied- maybe fed up- with Atsumu’s lack of response, Sakusa pulls his hand away and begins to walk. 

The exhale that trickles out in his wake empties Atsumu’s lungs until they’re shriveled and aching.

He really didn’t want to talk about it.

So they don’t.

Sakusa doesn’t try to say another word to him.

They walk in fizzling silence all the way back to Sakusa’s apartment.

Only upon reaching the door- three flights of stairs up- fifth door on the left- is a small keychain pulled from Sakusa’s back pocket.

Idly, bored- _ nervous _ \- Atsumu notes there are only three keys on it- the door, his mailbox probably, another big one- maybe his parent’s place? Did other people get the keys to the parent’s house? He doesn’t have one- but maybe his mom only trusts Osamu with one. It would make sense. She was always worried he’d burn the place down when they still lived there. He should call her- She’ll be sad to learn the news- She always had liked Hinata- 

“Alright, you’ve followed me the entire way home. What’s the plan now?” Atsumu looks up from the way Sakusa is pinching one key and shaking it away from the others as if there were suddenly a dozen to confuse it with or to get in the way. “ _ Hanging out?” _ Sakusa supplies from his active imagination of neverending horrors and terrible times. “I don’t plan on staying awake any longer than I have to. I leave those grimy bars early for a reason.” 

“Gotta scrub yourself down before crawlin’ into bed, that it? I don’t blame you-” 

He pauses just long enough to unlock the door and pull the key out. “You can’t distract me from the fact that you’re not leaving.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it. I’d rather you be fully aware of my alluring presence at all times,” 

“ _Why,”_ Sakusa grouses, loud and dragging. “are you still here? Just go home-” 

“No.” 

His whole face flinches at the word, wrinkling into displeasure as he turns the knob and pushes the door open.  _ “No?” _

He can’t. 

He doesn't even have a home. Not a real one. 

The place he’s staying isn’t home any more than the street is. 

It's quiet. And dark. And he doesn’t want to go and sit alone. God, he hates being alone. He can’t do that again. Not tonight. Not when he knows for certain there’s someone else with Hinata in the home he once had.

Sakusa breaks through cloudy panic by leaning forward a little and pulling forth the shameful burn that his sorrow had momentarily shadowed. “I’ve given you plenty of chances tonight, but this is the last one before the door gets shut in your face. Say what you want or go away.” 

Moving feels undoubtedly harder than speaking. And speaking is impossible. What’s harder than impossible? 

“I-” He tries with no end in sight. 

“ _ You-? _ ” Sakusa beckons with the mocking lift of his brows. 

“I didn’t think this far.” 

“Of course you didn’t.” He steps away from the door and Atsumu wants nothing more than to shrink in on himself until he disappears altogether. “When do you ever consider the outcomes of your actions? Selfish, preoccupied Miya- Do you even realize what you’re doing half the time?” 

With Sakusa looming closer with every word, Atsumu feels as though he’s being pushed back by the presence. His feet are glued to the carpet of the hall, but his back is curving as tilts away. “Whaddya mean by that, Omi-” 

It sounds horribly unsteady and he swallows right after to try and avoid the tightness of his throat. 

He doesn’t get a response. Just a very subtle tilt of Sakusa’s head as he sifts through all the bullshit draped over Atsumu’s bones disguised as pride. Apparently, among a shallow exhale and a compulsive roll of Atsumu’s shoulder, Sakusa finds what he’s looking for. He huffs at it. A short puff through unsightly flared nostrils as he finally speaks. 

“So, this is what? A way to get back at him?” 

“Who?” It’s a sincere question bursting from lagging thoughts. He feels so lost. So confused. So unsure how he got here or why he came here or when he’d be able to pull himself away. 

Sakusa sucks at his teeth but he isn’t backing away, he isn’t moving and slamming the door- he’s coming close, hovering like a shadow ready to suffocate Atsumu as soon as he opens his mouth again.

“You can be so pitiful when you really try.” 

_ That _ arouses something vicious and trepidatious in him that he can’t- doesn't  _ want _ to- acknowledge. 

“I-” 

The rest is gone. 

He had no choice but to stop- As soon as he had breathed in around the word, there was something in the way. Something that hurt and something that startled. All at once, he catches up to the fact that Sakusa has taken him by the shirt and yanked him forward into a dreadful kiss. 

His nose is squished, his lips are dry, their chins have bumped with a dull thud. 

It’s awful. 

But he’s- feeling. 

Atsumu had entertained the thought of kissing Sakusa a few times after they’d both joined the team. At least, that was until Hinata waltzed back into his life all grown-up and freckled. They were never serious thoughts- nothing more than a desperate attempt at squashing the loneliness that undoubtedly crept in when he went too long without his hands on someone else. 

It seems things haven’t changed all that much. 

But they were always open-mouthed, hungry in a frantic sort of way that would chew up his doubts and spit them out all tied into a pretty little knot. This is anything but that. This is slow, deliberate, forceful but not fast enough to distract him. Despite being held still, being so tense, he feels ripped open. There’s still too much room for overthinking. Obsessing. Ossifying. 

Though rigid, Atsumu moves. His arms push them apart with enough force to make Sakusa step back with one foot to keep from falling. 

“What the fuck are ya doin’?” It comes out like a squeak; and if a flush isn’t already burning across his cheeks, it will be now out of embarrassment at the sound of his voice alone. 

There isn’t a hint of surprise in the crease of Sakusa’s brow. Ever-irritated, he just pushes air through his lips and collects his posture. “What else are you here for?” The jingle of keys pulls Atsumu’s attention down, but then they’re being collected in a fist and hidden as Sakusa turns to the open door. “I’m tired of watching you dance around it. It’s a rebound, Miya. Which is-” He makes a noncommittal sound somewhere between a groan and reluctant acceptance. “But-” 

“Atsumu.” He slips it in as casually as he can. Which isn’t much. They both remain still through the silence that follows until he pipes up again with a nervous crack of his fingers at his side. “If we’re- If you can say it without throwin’ up.” Sakusa still doesn’t move; but he’s not calling him stupid or refusing to do it, so Atsumu leans into the staticky tension a bit more. “It’s the least you could do since ya just kissed me.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Regretting it already?” 

Sakusa turns halfway back to him, but he doesn’t answer. It’s obvious in the way he looks all abhorred and on the verge of sneezing that he heard it, recognized it, formed a response in his head, but chose to ignore it altogether. 

“Pretending you’ve moved on by searching out someone else is-  _ normal _ . I know normal is an arguably surprising behavior coming from you- but just don’t act like you’re above it.” 

“I was just surprised is all.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” Sakusa steps away while saying it, retreating into the dark of his apartment. “Why are you trying to be coy?” The slight protest that begins crafting itself on Atsumu’s tongue urges him to follow. He’s not being  _ coy.  _ He  _ was _ surprised _.  _ “It’s not endearing.” 

“I dunno-” He isn’t lying. Or pretending. Or- “I just-” He never expected Sakusa to go along with it. “You’ve never-”  _ Never  _ expected him to be the one to initiate anything like that. 

Sakusa leaves his keys on the small table inside the door before walking further in- suddenly stopping as if he remembered Atsumu was in his space once the babbling began. 

“I know forming complete sentences can be really hard for you; but  _ please,  _ if you’re going to insist on intruding into my home, at least spare me from your aimless muttering.”

Atsumu gathers what’s left of his sense and strength and steps fully inside.

“You never act like we’re even friends and now you kissed me outta the blue.”

“Avoiding your-  _ ex _ -boyfriend-”

_ It aches.  _ Less than Atsumu maybe thought it would, hearing it out loud. Atsumu throws the door shut behind him- ignores the way Sakusa scowls at the loud slam- because it still stings. Just to prove his existence here, in this unfamiliar apartment, worming his way into this unfamiliar life- Atsumu pries his shoes off. Toes to heel, one shoe is kicked to the wood- then the next- Sakusa seethes through it.

“Seeking out  _ my _ company for whatever reason- Following me home but not admitting why- Lamenting your failure of a relationship- Refusing to leave- Was it really _ out of the blue? _ ”

“Yeah, it was. ‘Cause you shoulda just shut the door on me when ya had the chance. Yer always tellin’ me I make such dumb decisions so why’d you let me? Why didn’t you just leave while I was in the bathroom? I’m not stupid enough to not think maybe you waited around on purpose.” Bumbling forward, Atsumu tosses out an accusatory finger at the intentionally disinterested way Sakusa turns his head to stare off into the apartment. “You  _ let _ me follow you here.  _ Let _ me complain.  _ Let  _ me in. Got me all figured out, so now you gotta answer-” He steps closer, throwing out a loud, “Why?” but feels entirely overwhelmed as soon as those severe eyes are fixated on him once more.

He tries to fight through the desire to look away, the displeasure of being seen for more than what he presents to people. He does so by taking those slow steps with a little more determination.

“ _ Why? _ ” He goads again, coming in close enough to watch the way Sakusa’s gaze flicks from one bit of his face to the next.

Sakusa isn’t leaning away from him like he usually does. Atsumu often wonders if he has some odor that only Sakusa can smell with the way he tends to bow himself in any direction other than the one Atsumu inhabits.  _ Bullshit-  _ that’s probably the smell. And maybe that’s why he’s still standing tall, not wavering, this time. Because there isn’t any bullshit coating Atstumu’s words. He’s confused and wracking the depths of every interaction they’ve had to try and come up with a reason  _ why in the ever loving fuck would Sakusa decide to kiss him- _

“Because I wanted to.”

It comes out as plain as telling Atsumu what time it is.

Atsumu wants to gawk at him, but any surprise is overrun by the provocation of the rest.

“I’m losing most of my remaining sanity seeing you flounder about, so if it was that awful; I’ll punch you next time. Unfortunately, that won’t work out as well considering I need my hand to make a living and your face arguably gets the team more sponsorships-”

Like the quick flip of a whiskey-induced switch, Atsumu grins.

“Are you admitting that I’m handsome-?”

Atsumu is starting to think the only way Sakusa knows how to initiate a kiss is by lunging like an angry bear. Claws out, teeth bared- all the intent to kill but none of the fuzzy fur and button nose. A full body tackle with hands on his face and enough force to send them staggering. Atsumu clings back- he won’t lose- But it isn’t desire or haste that fuels the delirium.

It’s something messy, like a jumble of fingers through thick, curly hair and saliva between lips and frustrated prompting. Sakusa pushes forward to walk them through the apartment and Atsumu  _ prays _ that he doesn’t comment on the hitch of breath and stumble that it causes. He’s decided to blame his inability to walk on the alcohol, and not on the overwhelming distraction of the bastard he’s being ushered by.

God, he’s  _ distracted- finally- _

Atsumu gives up. Gives in. Something in him changes entirely. He’s invigorated without cause or reason. Keyed-up. Overwrought with this excited sort of energy.

“Kiss me harder,” He growls, a drunken, low slur against pale lips. 

Sakusa’s stupid long fingers slide around his biceps and they feel like spiders. He holds Atsumu like he weighs nothing, like he  _ is  _ nothing; he holds him still and stops them in the middle of the room, and then- suddenly- kisses Atsumu  _ softer.  _

Atsumu feels like vibrating. He feels like the room is too electric, like the air had been hit with lightning only seconds before and Atsumu is left to burn alive inside of it. His heart races in his chest, so fast he thinks it might actually kill him. 

He didn’t think his heart could beat this way anymore. He thought Hinata took that with him when he left. But here he is- feeling like passing out in the middle of a foreign apartment. Atsumu can’t tell if he’s frozen out of anger from being denied, out of annoyance, or out of shock. He’s really, really not used to lips being gentle. He’s not used to tongues swiping instead of jabbing. 

Atsumu pulls back. Sakusa’s looking at his lips when he opens his eyes, but his face is pulled into lines of disgust and irritation. 

“That’s not what I asked for, Omi-kun,” Atsumu huffs. They’re still so close that Atsumu can see the little freckle right next to his nose. 

“Do you think I care?” Sakusa deadpans. 

Atsumu groans in annoyance, pulls against the grip on his arms and leans forward to try and nip at his lips. Sakusa rears back with a narrowed, horrified gaze. 

“I think ya should,” Atsumu smirks. 

Sakusa’s face slides into bitter distaste. “You’re too used to getting what you want, aren’t you, Miya?” 

Atsumu blinks drunkenly, and smiles. Absolutely not true, he knows. It’s quite the opposite of true. The only person he’s ever loved  _ left  _ him for the world’s biggest prick. His twin brother is more successful and happy than he is. All his life people have found him bothersome, hopeless. 

But, of course, Sakusa can never know any of that. 

“I get what I want because I’m the best,” He feigns, his tongue like lead in his mouth. “That’s just how it is.” 

Sakusa leans close again, and Atsumu makes a conscious decision to  _ hold _ his breath instead of letting Sakusa hear it quicken. 

“I think you just need to learn proper manners, actually,” Sakusa says lowly, right against his lips. 

“I got plenty ‘a manners, Omi,” Atsumu swallows his nerves. He’s starting to feel like... like he doesn’t actually have control over this, anymore. 

“Do you?” 

Atsumu swallows around the knot in his throat, “Yeah.” 

Sakusa quirks his head to the side, like he’s talking to a child. It occurs to Atsumu in a sudden glare of realization that Sakusa  _ does  _ see him like a child. Simpleminded. Flighty. Impressionable.

He’s not like that- He’s  _ not _ .

“Then tell me, is it common courtesy to follow a teammate home without their consent?” Sakusa bites against his mouth, taking a step forward and pushing Atsumu back. 

“Is it common courtesy to leave your filthy fucking shoes just outside of the entryway of someone else’s home on purpose? Is it common  _ courtesy  _ to demand them to kiss you in the way  _ you  _ feel entitled to?” 

Atsumu knows he’s having trouble breathing. He’ll blame it on the digs to his pride, rather than on the fact that Sakusa’s low voice is doing things to him. He won’t admit it. He  _ won't _ . It’s just because Sakusa is berating him, calling him out on things he doesn’t want to acknowledge are wrong. It’s not because Atsumu’s feeling a little  _ warm _ . Not at all.

“Uh..”

Sakusa looks up and meets his eyes. Atsumu knows he was planning on retorting- really, he was- but it disappears like a cloud of smoke as soon as those big, dark eyes look into his. 

“ _ Uh _ ?” 

Atsumu frowns, his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He flexes his biceps until Sakusa gets the hint and releases him. His gaze darts down Atsumu’s body quickly, like a quick flicker of a camera lens, and then his face lifts into his usual bland disinterest. 

“If you’re so insistent on staying-” And  _ hell _ did that seem to hold an entire room’s worth of implication. “Go shower, Miya.” 

Atsumu puffs out his chest and glares. “I told you to call me  _ Atsumu, _ Omi-kun.” 

“And  _ I’m  _ telling you to go shower,” Sakusa deadpans, not even looking over his shoulder as he turns and heads down the hall toward what Atsumu can only assume is his room.

Atsumu takes a deep breath, and stalks after him.

Sakusa steps straight to the nightstand upon entering. Atsumu follows- like the parasite he knows he is -to lean against his back like a doll, cheek squishing into Sakusa’s broad shoulder until he’s thrown off with a sharp, agitated glare.  _ Finally _ , he’s paying attention. Atsumu gives the biggest puppy dog eyed smirk he can. 

“I’m clean, Omi. Promise- I took one after the game. Washed behind my ears ‘n everythin’.” Atsumu lifts the blond fluff that dangles on top of his ear and scratches at his skin. Sakusa narrows his eyes and scrunches his nose, doing another quick once over.

“You reek of sweat.”

“It’s fuckin’ summer. Not my fault-” Atsumu tilts his chin with a pout. “An’ that’s just the natural scent of a real man.”

“Look, I didn’t follow  _ you _ to  _ your _ apartment starving for attention; so you either shower, or you leave.” Sakusa spits, turning to face him. His gaze is harsh but it’s very amusing. “I don’t care either way, but make a decision so I can decide how irritated I need to be.”

“Okay~ okay, I’ll go,” Atsumu drawls. He lifts his eyes and smirks. “But only if ya come with me.”

Sakusa  _ grimaces. _

“Come on! It’ll be fun, Omi-Kun,” Atsumu laughs. He socks Sakusa lightly on the arm just to deepen the look, and then turns to saunter off to the door. 

Atsumu lifts his shirt over his head as he walks. He can feel Sakusa watching him, and it’s a nice feeling. He honestly can’t remember the last time anyone has looked at him like this, where he could feel eyes on his skin like fingertips. Hinata stopped getting excited about that a while ago, even before he left. Something had surely been bothering him- Atsumu should have seen it all coming.

Like a shadow, Sakusa follows him. Atsumu tries to listen, tries to figure out if Sakusa is taking off his own clothes, but he finds that he can’t really hear anything over the harsh race of nerves and anxiety and anticipation. 

Well. Anxiety is a weakness- one Atsumu isn’t prone to having. He forces himself to swallow his nerves and reach down to pull his socks off as he steps into Sakusa’s on-suite bathroom. He’s been here once, at a team viewing party. 

It’s been a while since then, though. He forgot how clean and sterile everything in Sakusa’s house is. Atsumu physically shakes his head, breathes in, summons his confidence to smile cockily and turn to look over his shoulder 

“I took  _ my _ socks off, but you have to keep yer’s on or it’s gay. ‘Kay Omi-“ 

Atsumu stops. Sakusa isn’t behind him anymore. Atsumu pouts and angrily tosses his socks off to the side. He starts undoing his pants and pretends like his fingers aren’t shaking. 

“Tch,” Atsumu scoffs under his breath. “Ruin a good joke, won’t ya.” 

Fuck, his fingers are really shaking. Atsumu holds his breath, watches his fingers tremble as he undoes the button of his jeans and unzips them. 

Sakusa, huh?  _ Is  _ this a rebound? 

Atsumu frowns. Stranger things have happened, but it’s surprising. How did this happen again? 

He wonders what Hinata would think. He would probably giggle. He always thought Sakusa was super cool. Atsumu feels bile start to rise in his throat thinking about it. 

“Do you not know how to take your clothes off, either?” 

It’s a little far off- probably peeking in from his bedroom.

“I do,” Atsumu huffs but is left to fall victim as he’s leveled with a single command,

“Then do it.” 

Sakusa’s annoyed voice comes from right behind him, then. Oh so much closer and Atsumu almost jumps out of his damn skin. He whips around with wide eyes but finds himself trying  _ really _ hard not to stare at Sakusa’s now-bare torso right-  _ there _ .

He’s seen it plenty of times before- why does it look any different now?

Why is he here?

Why are they both half-naked on cold tile?

Why does this not feel as weird as it probably should?

Why does he kind of want this?

_ Why  _ does he feel like maybe Sakusa kind of does too-

_ Why _ really is the only thing he can think tonight. Constantly on a loop behind the rest of what was happening.

Over and over and over-

_ Why Why Why- _

“Take them off, Atsumu.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, he isn't sure what he's doing or why he's doing it...
> 
> But has that ever stopped him before?

“Take them off, Atsumu.”

Sakusa says it easily but as unamused as ever.

Atsumu takes a breath and slowly starts pushing his pants and boxers off his hips, holding eye contact with Sakusa but the  ass  just  scoffs and walks right past him. Atsumu squeaks, embarrassment and shock causing blood to rush into his cheeks. 

How  rude . He was being sexy, and Sakusa didn’t even care. Atsumu thought they were having a sexy moment.

Atsumu frowns as he turns and watches Sakusa pull on the overhead shower. He’s still wearing boxers. Atsumu finishes taking off his jeans but brings his underwear back up- If Sakusa can, he can too. 

Sakusa slowly turns his lidded glare over his shoulder again. Atsumu’s bare feet feel cold on the tile. Sakusa steps aside, leaving the entrance to the shower wide open. He looks bored, and Atsumu tries not to overthink the fact that he’s not hard even though Atsumu already sort of is. 

They stare at each other from across the room. 

Sakusa’s narrow slowly, “You have to step  into  the shower in order for-” 

“I fuckin’  know ,” Atsumu huffs, forcing himself to roll his eyes even though the tension in the room makes his throat feel like molasses. He stomps over to the shower, trying not to shiver as Sakusa watches him like a hawk. 

And then things happen really quickly. Maybe it’s the alcohol still making him slow, maybe it's the hot water making the room steamy and warm. But as soon as he steps between the walls of glass, Sakusa is taking long, dangerous steps and pursuing him like some giant, disgusted panther. He keeps getting closer, and closer, and suddenly Atsumu’s back is pressed deep into the  freezing  shower wall. His eyes are wide, staring at a spot next to Sakusa’s jaw.

His breath leaves him in an involuntary gasp. His body can’t figure out if it wants to be cold against the tile or hot under the dark eyes glaring at his lips. 

“You irritate me, Atsumu.” 

Atsumu blinks a few times. His body is deciding on hot, then, if the rush of blood dropping down to his crotch is anything to go by. 

“Do I?” 

Sakusa’s upper lip curls. Atsumu can’t see his face well anyway, but it’s hard to tell if the man wants to barf or kiss him. Maybe it’s both.  Atsumu sure feels like doing both. 

And then Sakusa takes a half step back, grabs something off of the shower rack and swiftly turns his back. His shoulders are broad. He has spots  everywhere . Atsumu tilts his head to the side, his eyes wandering before finally landing on his hands- fiddling with something Atsumu can’t see and clearly isn’t allowed to. 

Something small and.. and maybe a little terrified swirls in Atsumu’s mind as he hears a snap of elastic. The same sound that Atsumu hears when Sakusa pulls on his gloves when they clean the volleyball court. 

Why would he be wearing gloves? 

Atsumu swallows heavily. Gloves and a sterile room with two half naked men. Yeah, his brain is foggy, but he can simplify the situation down into two possibilities; Sakusa is actually a secret axe murderer and Atsumu finally took the teasing a step too far, or Sakusa is getting ready to finger him. 

Atsumu isn’t sure which makes him more terrified. 

He gulps. Forces a strained, nervous smile on his face and tries to lighten the mood...or maybe just expose what’s really going on. Just… just in case.

“What, Omi, are ya gonna kill me? Is that why ya had me strip down and get in the shower?” 

Sakusa’s neck bends back at an  inhuman angle. His gaze is disapproving as it scans over Atsumu’s body and then snaps forward again. “It  is  tempting.” 

Atsumu doesn’t know what to say to that. His nerves are weighing down his tongue. 

Sakusa turns around again, slowly. He’s facing Atsumu head on, staring hardly long enough to get a proper look before he’s stalking back over and invading his space. Atsumu’s breath is shallow and quick. Is it hot in here? It is. 

Atsumu doesn’t realize he’s leaning in until a hand is pressing against his chest and pinning him against the wall. 

His lungs collapse, and Sakusa leans to breathe against his lips. Atsumu’s thoughts are fuzzy, eyes locked to Sakusa’s mouth, and he’s panting and he can smell mint gum and faint alcohol on his breath. Atsumu opens his mouth and tries to inhale more of it, more of-

“I know Hinata bottomed for you,” Sakusa mumbles, matter-of-factly into his open mouth.

Atsumu blinks a couple times. He wants to be  kissed . Wha-what about Hinata..? 

His heart drops through the pit of his stomach as memories flash through his mind with that  stupid  fuckin’ name. He doesn’t… he doesn’t want to  think about that right now. He doesn’t want to think about anything, especially not bright eyes and bright hair and dazzling talent and-

Damn it. Why is Sakusa even… why  is this a conversation? So what if Hinata’s a bottom? Why does that matter right now? Why does Hinata have to sneak into every fuckin’ crevase of Atsumu’s life? 

“Uh..I mean yeah but-”

Sakusa’s head tilts to the side like a predator, the tips of their noses brushing together and... and  god  his heart is pounding really quickly. Atsumu wants to kiss him. Why the hell aren’t they kissing? 

Atsumu frowns, leans forward more desperately. “Jesus, Omi,  kiss m- ”

“But have you ever bottomed, Atsumu?”

It’s sultry, somehow. Bored, but sultry, and Atsumu’s eyes flutter closed at the feeling of air hitting his lips. Oh. His heart is pounding like crazy, he feels dizzy. He’s hard. He can feel latex against his chest from a few of Sakusa’s fingers. He tries desperately to sort through his thoughts, but finds it difficult. All he can think about is the ache pumping through him. 

“Yeah,” he forces himself to breathe. “Twice, I think. Neither of us..really liked it as much as-” 

Sakusa kisses him and Atsumu sighs into it immediately. His words were weak and didn’t matter anyways. And yeah, he didn’t like it as much as other things they’d done before, but he didn’t hate it. And he’s not as scared of it right now, in this steamy shower, as he thought he would be. 

Maybe he should be more scared.

Maybe… maybe he should be  terrified. Because as Sakusa slowly licks between his parted lips, Atsumu isn’t thinking about Hinata anymore. 

For the first time in  months , he isn’t thinking about heartbreak, or longing, or loneliness. He’s just...

He can’t seem to breathe, even as Sakusa breaks away and has him by the shoulders to flip him in one stumbling, awkward movement. Atsumu’s sweating, gasping… or maybe he’s just getting a little wet from the stream of water a few inches away.. 

His cheek presses against the cold of the wall. So does his chest, as Sakusa presses the width of his forearm against the back of Atsumu’s shoulders and pins him. 

“Why are your boxers still on,” Sakusa asks. 

Atsumu feels hatred and disgust fill his chest suddenly, just as quickly as arousal had. Why does he have to sound so  bored.  And… and  grossed out.  Atsumu grunts, places his hands against the tile and tries to push away but fails. Sakusa presses against him more firmly, and he’s not close enough for Atsumu to feel his breath but he’s bordering on it. 

“O-oi,” Atsumu wheezes, trying to be firm. Trying to keep what little is left of his pride. 

“Tch.”

Sakusa has a free hand, somehow. Atsumu’s strong, he knows he is but… but somehow the asshole is keeping him against the wall with one arm and shoving his boxers over his ass with the other.

“Yer boxers are still on too ya know-“

“ I’m  not the one who needs to shower,” Sakusa bites. He sounds annoyed. Angry. Atsumu’s gut is swimming in self hatred and he doesn’t know why. 

A finger presses against his hole and Atsumu’s eyes bug out of his head. Holy shit.  Holy  shit. Sakusa has those weird latex finger covers on, that’s what the snapping sound earlier was. 

And now he’s going to  finger him... 

Sakusa must sense his hesitation. He pushes Atsumu further into the wall, so far that his cheek squishes against it and his neck bends uncomfortably. Atsumu huffs, clenches his fists against the tile and squeezes his eyes shut. Oh god. This is fucking scary. It’s going to hurt, huh? 

“T-this doesn’t seem like showerin, though,” he wheezes, lungs collapsed in his chest. He sounds about as pathetic as he feels. 

“ God , quit complaining,” Sakusa grits. “You wanted my attention Atsumu? Here it is. You can leave whenever you want. I’d actually be  happier that way.” 

Atsumu’s face draws up in some sort of pathetic plea. “ No- ” He doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the sincerity dripping from Sakusa’s words, so disappointed and annoyed that it makes Atsumu want to melt to the shower floor and sob.

“I want-” He breathes but it stops short of admitting he wants- everything. All of it. Whatever it is.

Maybe it  is the sincerity. He has a sinking feeling that no one has ever been as honest with him as Sakusa Kiyoomi is. 

The finger must be lubed. It pushes inside, and it feels smooth enough. Atsumu’s face floods with heat. Maybe want, maybe mortification. 

He’s hard. His heart aches in his chest. He’s pinned against a wall with a slippery  thing  sliding into his ass, and he hasn’t felt this vulnerable since the day Hinata closed the door to their apartment and left him standing in the hallway.

He  just wanted a damn kiss. He wanted to feel something, he wanted to know  someone might want him…. but Sakusa is dead silent as he pushes his finger inside. Atsumu can’t help but wonder if Sakusa is doing this for the same reasons- if he doesn’t actually want Atsumu specifically, but is using him for some sort of release. 

The finger is halfway in. Maybe more. Sakusa curls it, maybe twists it, and something like ache shoots up Atsumu’s spine and he grimaces against the tile. It does sort of hurt. Stupid, long fingered Sakusa. 

“Slow down,” he grits through clenched teeth. “It’s been a fuckin’ minute.”

Sakusa  sighs  but does so nonetheless. “Stop whining.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“It’s uncomfortable because you’re trying to  make it uncomfortable. Now relax.” 

“You try relaxin’ in my position.”

“I have before, I’m sure you can figure it out with what limited thought capacity you have.”

Sakusa sounds beyond exhausted with him, but Atsumu can’t help the increase in his heart rate at the  hilarious  mental image of Sakusa bottoming. He smirks against the wall and raises a brow, even though his eyes are closed. 

“Oh~? Omi-Omi isn’t a virgin? How scandalous.”

“Shut up.”

Atsumu smirks wider, tilting his head back confidently, “Here I was thinking I was about to deflower you-“

Suddenly Sakusa’s free hand is slapping over his mouth. His grip is tight, unforgiving, it hurts his cheeks and Atsumu’s eyes are now wide with shock and a sudden, uninvited curl of arousal. Sakusa has his head shoved against the wall now too, and he leans in and hisses harshly against his ear. 

“You are the most  insufferable person I’ve ever met. I need you to stop talking before I lose my will to live past this  horribly embarrassing lapse in my judgement.”

Atsumu’s eyes flutter shut. His ass tightens around the single finger sharply and he can’t control it. His mind clouds over with a need he isn’t used to, a need he doesn’t know how to fight. Even if Sakusa wasn’t muffling him with his palm, he wouldn’t have the words to speak.

“Are you going to behave?”

Fuck.  Fuck.  Atsumu nods. He wants to behave. He wants to be wanted. He wants to give someone else every inch of his life. He’s really hard. The finger makes him ache. 

He must relax around Sakusa’s finger. He can’t really feel his own body, but he  must,  because Sakusa tickles the edge of his ear with his lips and purrs against him in the most  velvety  tone Atsumu’s ever heard.

“That’s it-  good .” 

Honest.

He keens against Sakusa’s hand and his eyes roll into his head as heat spreads across every inch of his body. Atsumu is being good. 

Sakusa clicks his tongue bitterly, pulling away from his ear a little. “You’re even worse than I thought.”  Honest. “Of course you’d be into fucking  praise.”  Sakusa’s hand slides from his mouth and Atsumu gasps. Embarrassment mixes with his arousal. 

“I-m n ot -“

“Really? Then how do you explain this?“ the free hand sneaks around Atsumu’s body and slides between his legs. Wraps long fingers around his very, very hard dick. 

Atsumu opens his mouth to defend it,  somehow,  but all that comes out of him is a cracked and broken moan.

Sakusa drops his cock and Atsumu bites his tongue as he feels the weight of it bob in the air. The finger inside him slides a little deeper and Atsumu’s gut curls with discomfort. He hates this part even in normal situations, but he especially hates it with the unreadable, strange silence floating through the shower after his moan stops echoing off the tiles. 

The noises are slick, his breath is strained, and Sakusa says  nothing . He doesn’t praise, or sigh, or anything. He can’t tell if Sakusa’s disgusted or uncomfortable, or maybe turned on. He wants to know but he also doesn’t. He doesn’t dare open his eyes, in case it’s not what he wants to see. 

It’s okay though. Ashamedly, more than okay. Because Atsumu doesn’t feel as cold as he usually does. And it’s nice to feel tingling on his lips from being kissed, and it’s nice to feel restless and achy. At least he’s feeling.

A second finger presses against his rim and he chokes, straightening out so he’s almost completely flush against the wall. It’s cold against his skin but he’s burning up, it’s starting to feel a little grounding too.

Sakusa pushes in and it  burns.  Atsumu wants to ignore the noise that comes out of his throat with the pain, but he can’t, because he wants to make it again with each forced push in. 

“Atsumu,  relax,”  Sakusa orders. It’s frustrated. It makes shame curl in his gut and fester like an open wound. 

“I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can. Are you really so needy that we’re going to have to do this  every  time I put a new finger inside you?” 

“G-gimme a damn break won’t ya?” Atsumu huffs, brow furrowed against the wall. “I don’t do this very of’en.” 

Sakusa leans close, breathes against his ear again. Atsumu flinches, pressing closer to the wall to get away. The fingers stretch him a little more and he hisses through his teeth. 

“Don’t do  what , Atsumu. Follow someone home and corner them into dealing with your whining, and your big ugly pout when all  they want to do is  sleep?” 

“If yer so annoyed then stop and tell me t’go home-” Atsumu gasps. He doesn’t want to think about the words, he doesn’t want to think at all. “Or j-just use s’more damn lube, okay Om-“

And then Sakusa’s fingers are slipping out of him, and his clean hand is grabbing a painful fistful of his hair and tugging him off the wall. Atsumu yelps, his eyes wide and fingers shaking as his weak legs try to keep up. Sakusa slips his hand down to cup the back of his neck, pushing him along like a big doll as he moves and turns off the stream of water. 

Atsumu grasps behind his head, his fingers close around Sakusa’s strangely thin wrist. 

“ Hey,”  he whines, “Omi, hey- hey! “

It’s all he can do to move his legs and stumble along fast enough to keep up with the torturous pace Sakusa has taken. Atsumu’s head is clouded as he’s holding onto Sakusa’s wrist with all his might. 

“Han-d-“ Atsumu gasps, barely able to get the word out at all. Sakusa’s dragging him toward the bed. “L-let up a little, Omi-“

“Calm down,” Sakusa gives one last push and all but flings him by his head onto the bed. Atsumu’s hips hit the side, his knees go out as soon as Sakusa lets go and his torso almost bounces against the mattress with the impact. 

He gasps into the sheets but the sound of a wood drawer opening snaps him back to where he is. He turns his face towards Sakusa, but doesn’t bother to open his eyes. 

“Shit,” he groans. “What’s with the rough treatment?” 

Sakusa doesn't respond. Atsumu sits up, opens his eyes and he’s  just  able to press his lips together before he’s being kissed. 

Atsumu squeaks against Sakusa’s lips, and then his eyes flutter up into his head and his body turns around to melt into it properly. It’s better than before. It’s deeper, finally more firm. Maybe pissing Sakusa off is paying off. Maybe Atsumu wants anger directed at him. Anger is still attention. 

And it feels like it’s been so long since he’s had any attention. Or… attention like this. Attention that means being kissed within an inch of his life. Like he’s wanted. 

Sakusa guides him fully up onto the bed and Atsumu’s body moves with it, without being asked. Like he’s a puppet on a string. Sakusa starts to pull up, to pull away but Atsumu just follows. He moves up and around like a magnet, desperately clinging to those warm lips. 

When he’s actually kissed again, instead of just being guided with a light press of a mouth, he gives out onto the mattress with a deep sigh. His lips part and his body feels like warm water and he can’t even be upset that he’s naked and wet and a little loose. Sakusa licks into his mouth like he had before, light and fleeting, but he’s still  kissing him, so Atsumu decides that he doesn’t care.

It’s still strange to be the one  against the mattress, it’s strange to feel hands guide his thighs open but he can’t really find it in himself to mind. Sakusa’s hands are strangely soft for a spiker. Maybe it’s because he’s always wearing gloves. The finger tip covers actually don’t feel that strange either, now that he thinks about it. 

Atsumu smirks, something warm and excited and confident bubbling up in his chest. He licks behind Sakusa’s teeth as adorably as he can, and then pulls back to press their lips together instead of tongue. He hums against Sakusa’s mouth and throws his arms around his neck, hooking both elbows around him and keeping him close. He can  feel  Sakusa’s nose scrunch up in distaste and he almost laughs. 

There’s a hand dangerously close to his ass cheek, under his left thigh, but Atsumu doesn’t mind that much. It sorta feels nice. 

Damn, is Sakusa really gonna fuck him tonight? That’s such a crazy thought. Sakusa Kiyoomi, fucking him. Huh. Osamu would probably burst into disbelieving laughter. 

Sakusa’s annoyed grumble against his mouth snaps him back to reality. Atsumu’s arms are trapping him. Whoops. 

Atsumu unwinds just a little. Sakusa breaks the kiss but doesn’t entirely pull away, still breathing all close, and Atsumu can’t help but smile. 

“Do ya like kissin’ me?” 

Sakusa’s face breaks into a scowl. His oddly big, black eyes lift to meet him and Atsumu forces himself to stare back, even as the hand finally drags forward and lightly slides along the crack of his ass. 

He’s still lubed enough, so it doesn’t hurt  that  much when Sakusa slides two fingers inside. More lube would be good though. Atsumu’s eyes roll shut and he drops his mouth on a light gasp, head tilting back into the sheets. 

He smirks, breathing hard as he feels his insides spread with the slow push of fingers. So strange. But still. Sakusa didn’t deny his accusation. He’s moving things along. That means Atsumu was right. 

“You  do  like kissin’ me. I figured, but I di’nt know it was  this mu-“

Sakusa suddenly curls his fingers and Atsumu feels the press against the front of his pelvis. His voice cuts off with a gasp that’s way more unexpected than he’d like to admit. Sakusa dips his face into the crook of his neck and Atsumu just holds him closer.

“You know what? I think this will work better if you just  don't  talk,” a bitter gripe into his skin.

Atsumu laughs breathlessly, “Why? Are my words too arousing for ya?” 

Sakusa’s fingers slide out. His clean hand stretches up Atsumu’s body and finds his bicep, prying it from around his neck and then  pressing  it into the bed. 

Atsumu drops his other arm as well and grabs a fistful of the sheets as arousal starts to simmer in his chest. Has he always liked being pinned, or is it just this specific situation? 

“Say  one  more thing and I’ll plug up your throat with something you won’t like,” Sakusa snaps against his skin. “I’m  this close to tossing you and your trashy clothes out into the lobby.” 

Atsumu’s head feels a little heavy with need, but he huffs a weak smirk and turns his head to the side, experimentally pulling against Sakusa’s hold.

“Geez~ Omi. Okay, I got it. I’ll just stick to moanin then-” 

Sakusa shoves the two non-latex fingers of his free hand into Atsumu’s mouth and sighs in annoyance against his neck. Atsumu laughs, his tongue pressing against the pads of Sakusa’s fingers. He’s so fun to tease. 

Atsumu doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the alcohol that makes him do it, but his instincts scream at him to close his mouth and suck. He wraps his lips around Sakusa’s fingers, slides his tongue along the length of them, and then sucks. 

Whatever humor and annoyance was in the air leaves. Sakusa sits up slowly and stares down at him. 

His dark eyes are lidded. There’s not a trace of disgust on his face. If Atsumu didn’t know better, it’s as close to captivated as Sakusa Kiyoomi can get. Pride rages in his chest, inspires him to lean forward and take in more of the fingers while looking up with his own lidded gaze. 

Atsumu hums. He can feel his lips vibrate, and his eyes fall closed. It’s been a while, but after dating Hinata for so long he  definitely  learned how to use his mouth. He’ll prove it. He’s suddenly determined to change Sakusa’s opinions of him tonight. 

Sakusa takes a breath, pulls his fingers out, and looks off to the side. “That’s enough.” 

“Hm?” Atsumu blinks slowly. He feels hot and melted and content. 

Sakusa reaches over, grabs a bottle. With a quick glance Atsumu finds it’s lube.

“Turn over.” 

Atsumu gulps. Right. 

When he turns onto his stomach he’s somehow both grateful and upset. He can hide like this, Sakusa won’t be able to read his expressions if his face is in the sheets, but it consequently puts his ass in the air. On display. 

Somehow he feels more vulnerable, like this. When Hinata fucked him they faced each other. 

But this isn’t Hinata. He needs to remember. This isn’t..theres  no  Hinata anymore. Ever. It’s over, it’s been over, it’ll stay over. 

“Atsumu.” 

Sakusa’s dark voice cuts him out of his swirl of thoughts. He can bully Atsumu for not thinking all he wants, but it’s quite far from the truth. 

“Hm?” He tries to sound chipper, even though his heart is pounding from nerves. 

“Why are you shaking,” Sakusa says darkly. “I know you’re not cold.”

Atsumu swallows. Why is he shaking? Because he’s scared of putting himself out there. Because he’s heartbroken and drunk. That’s why. 

He smiles bitterly into the sheets, and stretches out confidently. He can feel Sakusa watching him. 

“M’excited is all.” 

It’s silent. Atsumu bites his tongue and forces his face not to change. He prays that Sakusa doesn’t catch onto the lie. Prays that if he does, he doesn’t call him out on it. 

Usually, Atsumu hates silence. His life used to be so loud, and bright, and fast. Sakusa is like… the opposite of that. He thought he’d hate it, the silence, but he doesn’t. It’s strangely comforting.

Instead of words, there are fingers. And lube. And a hand sliding up his spine, with fingertips that feel strangely chilled against his skin. 

Atsumu grabs the sheets with both of his fists at first. It feels strange and it aches in a very deep way. Atsumu knows there are only two fingers, he knows that. But Jesus. How is he gonna do this? He knows from quick locker room glances that Sakusa is bigger than that…

Ah. Yeah, he’s gonna die. 

He unwraps one of his hands and shoots it back to snag Sakusa’s wrist. He knows where it is, and he knows just how to grab it. He’s impressed with his drunk self’s sense of surroundings. He wonders how well he could set right now. 

Sakusa sighs behind him as Atsumu grips his arm. The fingers stop moving and spreading inside him and Atsumu holds his breath, his pulse racing. 

“Just put it in,” he orders breathlessly. Sakusa’s fingers twitch, Atsumu can feel his muscles move in his wrist. 

“You’re too tense.”

“I’m not. Just do it.”  If you don’t do it now I might chicken out. 

“No.” 

“Omi-“

The fingers that aren’t inside him suddenly wrap around the top of his head and shove his face into the sheets. His words die in the back of his throat. Something akin to refusal swirls in his gut and he braces himself for it. He’s pushing too far. He’s driving him away. 

“Shut up,” Sakusa growls behind him. Atsumu’s grip on his wrist falters. “Why won’t you listen to a  single  thing I say? Are you seriously that self involved?” 

“I just-“

“No,” Sakusa lets go of his hair and Atsumu winces internally. He can’t even defend himself now? “You need to learn how to give up just an  ounce  of your shitty need to control everything.” 

“Says you.” It’s out before he can stop it. Sakusa does everything particularly. He’s a neat freak and a perfectionist and the most  rude loner-

“Yeah, says me. What do you think I’m doing right now? I’m about to fuck one of the most annoying, selfish, ignorant people I’ve ever met. There’s no control in that for me. If I  could , Atsumu, I would’ve said no.” 

Atsumu’s stunned. His heart thuds in his ears. Everything feels backhanded somehow, like a test. Atsumu can’t help but feel a tingle of hope, despite the clear resentment dripping from Sakusa’s tone. 

“But..?”

He doesn’t actually expect a ‘but.’ He knows Sakusa won’t leave now, not with two fingers inside and heat swirling in the air. But he wants to hear it, for some strange reason. Desperate for words of validation he gets so rarely from the man above him. 

“But I didn’t. Did I?” 

Atsumu freezes.“No-” He’s having trouble breathing. 

“No. So calm down, you conceited brat.” 

And he isn’t sure why, but he feels this compelling need to relax. Inside and out. He hears Sakusa pull in a deep breath as he does, and he lets his chest and shoulders press deeper into the mattress and his back arches to stay in the air, to take long fingers  just that much deeper.

“Yes, that’s it,” a deep rumble that thrums through Atsumu’s bones. “Good.” 

Atsumu huffs into the sheets. He can feel wetness drip from his cock where it’s hanging heavy between his legs. The praise washes over him and he wants to melt. Damn Sakusa for being right all the time. 

For a while they don’t talk much. It’s just heavy breathing, and tensed muscles, and a slow draw and curl of fingers. There’s something kind in the air that Atsumu isn’t used to. It’s kind and frustrated and heavy, and he’s not sure exactly how all of those can work together but they do. 

Atsumu isn’t used to this weird, gentle concern. It’s putting him off, it’s somehow making him more anxious than anything else has so far. 

The fingers curl on the draw out. The angle of them makes Atsumu jump and wince as it tugs at his rim, and he melts into the bed when they’re gone. Geez, he forgot how strange it feels to be stretched down there. Sore and strange. 

There’s the sound of the lube dripping from a bottle again and he holds tighter to the sheets, grits his teeth. This is happening. It’s happening. He hasn’t had another person  inside  him in… in god… it must be almost a year now-

“Don’t look so upset,” Sakusa’s gruff sigh from behind him forces him to breathe. “Is it honestly that awful?”

Atsumu exhales shakily against the mattress. Awful? No, no it’s not awful. Terrifying, maybe, but not awful. 

“Miya-“ 

“Don’t,” Atsumu speaks immediately, as soon as his  last name  reaches the air he shuts it down. Somehow he finds humor in it-that  that’s  what makes him speak out. He huffs a weak laugh, a drunken smile. “Quit callin’ me that already, won’t ya?”

A big hand lands on his waist. He hadn’t realized he was fully laying down now, but he is, and Sakusa pushes him down further. It makes his stomach erupt with butterflies, and arousal. It makes him just uncomfortable enough to shiver a bit. 

“Yer actin’ strange,” Atsumu mumbles, far too breathless for his liking. Sakusa’s hand feels like it gets bigger, fingers stretching out and tightening on his skin. 

“ I’m  acting strange?” Disapproving. “I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen you this quiet in my life. I always thought you’d be as obnoxiously loud in bed as you are normally.” 

Atsumu can’t help but smirk. He usually  is obnoxious, actually, but Sakusa doesn’t have to know that. Hinata always used to tease him about how loud he was, how he would subconsciously try and bang the bed against things with his thrusts just so people would hear...

Ugh. 

“Well maybe ya shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover,” he smirks. His voice feels velvet on his own lips, but it burns with the strange hint of a lie. 

“...I can’t believe I’m doing this.” 

It’s whispered under his breath, like Atsumu isn’t meant to hear it. Maybe he’s not, but that just makes it worse. It’s scornful and… and Atsumu knows he’s a prick sometimes. Teasing comes to him like second nature, pressing buttons is a reflex he can’t help. He knows that’s who he is. But for some reason, right now, he’s starting to feel a little nauseous, hearing Sakusa’s clear tone of regret. 

Sakusa hovers over him like a blanket, from head to toe, the hand on Atsumu’s hip moves and grabs his ass to spread him. He positions his cock at the edge of Atsumu’s hole and  god  suddenly he can’t breathe. It won’t fit. He doesn’t feel ready. It won’t fit. It won’t. He’ll break.

Sakusa doesn’t even like him, right? Right? 

He blames the next question on nerves, and anxiety. Usually he doesn’t ask things like this because he knows the answer won’t be good, but his gut makes him do it. He’s drunk. He’s hurt. There’s a whole ass dick about to slide up his ass. Sue him-

“Do I actually disgust you, Omi?” 

Silence hangs in the air, but only for a moment. A moment of hesitation for their situation, for the question. 

“No.”

Sakusa presses inside.

The word is low and serious, spoken right above the back of his head. Atsumu can feel it tickle his hair. He can’t breathe, not at all, every time he tries he just ends up gasping and choking on nothing. It feels like he’s being split open. He  is  being split open. Right up the middle.

No,  he said.  No . 

“...oh.”

Sakusa doesn’t respond. Atsumu waits for something, anything, something to reassure him or ground him from what they’re doing, the weight of their situation feels heavy as Sakusa’s  unfairly  long cock slides inside him an inch at a time. Sakusa’s his teammate. His teammate who doesn’t even  like him that much. Is this gonna ruin the dynamic? Is Atsumu that goddamn  stupid- 

Fuck. Fuck, that aches.

Atsumu winces, his body seizing up and jumping forward to get away to the sharp sting coming from his ass. It feels like his hole is gonna tear. That can happen right? He’s pretty sure it can.. can Sakusa not feel how tight he is? He can barely even slide in two inches right now, he’s so wide Atsumu can’t take it any deeper-

Sakusa stills completely. He breathes. His hand travels back to the side of Atsumu’s waist and it’s just as comforting as it is chilling. 

“Damn it, Atsumu,” it’s cool, tired, frustrated. “You’re not ready..”

And he’s  not ready, but he feels some weird desperation as Sakusa slowly moves to pull out of him. He doesn’t want that. He wants to keep going. He can do it. “I am! I’m f- ine-“

His own voice betrays him in a crack of pain. Sakusa clicks his tongue and Atsumu feels shame reach up and threaten to grab hold of his tongue. 

“You’re not. If you don’t relax you’re going to hurt  both of us.”

Atsumu opens his mouth to protest, to maybe suggest a different position or  something,  but as his jaw drops a hand fists in the top of his hair and tugs him. His gasp is strangled, choked, forced. His neck is wrenched to the side, twisted, and he feels the skin of Sakusa’s chest press against his back as he uses his other hand to grab Atsumu’s jaw and drag him into a kiss. 

Atsumu  whines . He can’t… he can’t… Sakusa’s too big, it hurts, his body feels twisted into knots and even though that warm tongue sliding between his lips feels nice it’s not enough to calm him down. 

Maybe his whine is loud. Maybe Sakusa can feel the way his ass is fluttering desperately, or how his whole body is trembling. He pulls back from the kiss, and lets Atsumu’s head drop uselessly to the bed. 

Instead of a tug, the fingers in his hair card through his waves almost… almost gently. Like he’s being pet. His inhale is stuttered and sharp and he holds his breath. 

“ Shh ,” it’s a soft sound, gentle and firm, loud against the edge of his ear. “Shhh. Breathe, Atsumu.” 

He does. He breathes, he relaxes. Like some sort of spell comes over him, he sighs deeply and focuses on the smooth darkness of Sakusa’s voice and the gentle hand in his hair. Sakusa pulls in a tense breath against his temple as his ass relaxes with the rest of him. 

Sakusa slides in a little deeper. His breathing is strained, choppy, it puts Atsumu at ease for no other reason than the knowledge that his arousal isn’t one sided. 

A heavy exhale lands on his ear and he fights a shiver at how warm it is. 

“Is that what you need then? You need to be coddled into taking cock-  Jesus  don’t squeeze around me.“ 

Atsumu gasps into the sheets, face furrowing into a pout. “Then don’t  talk like th-at…” 

Sakusa clicks his tongue. He’s definitely getting deeper. Atsumu’s hand might just honestly crumble, he's squeezing the sheets so damn tightly. 

“I refuse to coddle you, so I’m going to  fuck you open, Atsumu.” It’s dark and displeased, and Atsumu whines into the bed and turns his head away as Sakusa pushes in all the way, so deep . “I’m going to fuck you, and youre gonna stay nice and quiet unless you need to stop.” 

Fuck. 

Fuck. Is he nodding? Yeah he is, he’s absolutely nodding and all he can feel is heat and fog and butterflies in his chest. He’ll be good. Nice and… and quiet. 

Sakusa pulls out a little despite Atsumu’s desperate push back. He bites his bottom lip. He curls his hands into the sheets and pays deeper attention to the pain he’s pressing into his lip, and how nice it feels to be so warm, so hot. 

He feels empty, in his gut; it’s still fucking cold there and in his strange deliriousity he thinks that it’ll be filled by the time Sakusa is all the way in. He knows what it is though, really, and Sakusa can’t  push Atsumu’s heartache out with his cock.

Atsumu can’t lie and say it feels entirely good, but it’s a good hurt. An ache, a pinch, a burn that compliments how his heart feels. He dizzily blinks open, staring mindlessly at the pillow in front of him, his chin pressed into the sheets as his body is slowly rocked. Back and forth. Pinch and burn and stretch until he feels  full .

Atsumu’s eyes roll shut again at this sharp pain in his gut, his stomach. Too deep. The fucker is getting too deep, but he’s panting against Atsumu’s shoulder and clearly isn’t done because Atsumu still can’t feel his hips. He’s not even close. 

“H-ow much m-more ‘s-“

“Almost,” Sakusa says deeply, breathless and low. Atsumu drops his head to press his cheek into the sheets and tries to calm down. “You’ve almost taken it all now. How do you feel.” 

Atsumu moans but he can’t tell if it’s from arousal or embarrassment or pain. He’s still present enough to feel like a pathetic child, but the fucks he gives about it are starting to thin. It’s hard to care when his body clearly enjoys it, when his head gets all fuzzy and out of focus. 

“Hurts a little,” he gasps, it doesn’t sound like himself. “Deep. F-ull. Omi…” 

Atsumu’s grateful that Sakusa is so close. If he hadn’t been directly behind him, Atsumu would have missed the breathless click of tongue behind him, the hitch of breath and very,  very  forced scoff.

A part of him appreciates Sakusa acting the same though. Even during sex, he’s still the same. Still honest and rude and judgmental. It’s oddly comforting. Maybe Atsumu’s gotten too used to facades. 

“You’re doing well. It’ll feel better in a minute.” 

He doesn’t know why, but he arches his back a little deeper and whines, “promise?”

Sakusa’s ridiculously sized hand lands in the center of his back and presses him down until he whimpers at the arch. His hips are rolling more fully now, it makes Atsumu feel heavy and dizzy and weak. 

“You’re such a child.” 

“I-I…  ah-Omi-“ it comes off choked and thick, forced from his throat with a long, harsh thrust that makes his gut sing in pain.

Pain is something he’s gotten very, very used to the last couple of weeks. The pain of betrayal, of faking smiles, of ignoring his own emotions because they hurt too much. The pain of overthinking. Even now, he-

“Quiet.” 

Atsumu nods heavily, slowly. He  digs  his teeth into his bottom lip to keep himself in check, only letting out the most strained, weak moans he can’t manage to hold back. Sakusa wants him quiet. Maybe he should be quiet more often. 

Maybe if he was quiet and reserved like his brother, people wouldn’t leave so much. He’s annoying, he has to remember. 

It gets harder to keep quiet though, as Sakusa’s cock works him open. As  Sakusa  works him open, tears his rib cage open to the world with each roll of hips and press of his wide hand against Atsumu’s back. His dark eyes seem to be locked to the back of Atsumu’s neck. He can feel them. And they stay there, stay there until they burn a hole.

And suddenly, with his chest open and bleeding onto the sheets with every thrust, the mental image of Hinata’s pinky finger curling into someone else’s slides into his mind. 

Atsumu opens his mouth and pulls the fabric of the sheets between his teeth to bite down on as his heart seems to cower and burn in his chest. Why? Why right now? Can’t he just have  one night of relief from Hinata? 

No, of course not. His mind starts dragging up memories too. And then it’s...it’s almost like he can physically feel his arms wrapping around that tiny waist, calloused hands in his hair. 

“ What’s with you!” Hinata’s giggle is bright. Atsumu can feel his big smile against his own lips. 

Atsumu kisses him again. “Jus’ wanted to kiss ya.” 

He bites harder into the sheets. His legs are starting to hurt, holding his own weight. And his ass is sort of feeling numb. 

“ You’re so cute,” that smile cuts through the air, steals Atsumu’s breath and steals all of his doubts and anxieties with it. 

“Yeah?” His heart feels big. He feels so warm and at home he could cry. Hinata ruffles his hair like he’s a child.

“Yeah,” Hinata kisses his cheek, then smiles against it and giggles when Atsumu hugs him even tighter. “The cutest.”

He feels slightly sick, all of a sudden. Why does it have to be  that memory? Did it have to be the one where he felt that  loved? 

Is it because he’s sure that no one will  ever  make him feel the same way? 

Fuck… does Hinata even think of him anymore? Does  he bite his tongue to stop himself from reaching for the phone? Does  his chest feel like it’ll cave in on itself in the dead of night? Or is he relieved that he’s finally free of Atsumu’s shit, relieved he can be with who he actually wants.

“Atsumu.”

His name lands against the shell of his ear along a hot breath much like the one being strangled between his own clenched teeth. Everything has stilled- he isn’t sure when they stopped.

“Where are you?” 

Where?

It seems like a stupid question until he realizes he doesn’t even know how long he got caught up in thoughts of what was- what had been- what never will be again. 

He laughs like a reflex but it’s broken and tight and sounds more like a wounded whine than anything. 

“Dunno whatcha mean, Omi, I'm-” 

A hand catches his jaw, turns his head until it's near painful and he’s staring into nothing but black. Black room. Black eyes. The void is threatening to eat him alive. 

“You’re here.” It sounds nothing like a question, but Atsumu’s head moves before he realizes he doesn’t have to answer. His nod is weakened by the grip on his face, by muddled thoughts being stirred up and pushed around at Sakusa’s will. “With me. Right?” 

He nods again, just a tad surer. They start to move again. “Don’t go anywhere else.” Sakusa’s fingers squeeze, pushing up at Atsumu’s cheeks in a way that surely isn’t attractive. “Don’t think about anyone else.” Sakusa’s eyes aren’t straying lower to look at the way his skin is squishing or the fact that there’s definitely spit sliding from a tugged lip. He stays locked onto the brown beneath Atsumu’s lashes like it’s worth something. Like it’s not just copper painted to appear like gold but that tarnishes the longer it’s looked at. “Can you do that?” 

Can he?

It’s proving difficult. No matter how hard his brow creases together. To reign his focus in, to center in on nothing but the hand on his face- the other on his waist- oh, it’s on his waist now- the stare burning into him and making him drop his gaze anywhere else- he can’t. He hates how someone long gone still has such a hold on him, but Hinata had been his sun, his happiness, his everything and now his nothing. He has nothing left but his own, pathetic self. That's what everyone says, right? 

He's pathetic. 

Too selfish to keep anyone around. 

Too cocky to know when to shut up. 

Too self-absorbed to notice when he’s making things worse. 

He doesn’t deserve anything. Not even this pity fuck. 

He really is pathetic- 

“Hey.” 

It’s stern, somehow closer. Atsumu’s eyes focus again. there’s still black swarming all around but there’s also the flicker of light across them now. Drawing him in. Leaving no choice but to be enthralled. 

“What’d I say? Nowhere else.” Sakusa loosens his hold; but even without fingers digging into his cheeks, Atsumu doesn’t drop his head again. “You can do it.” No, he won’t look away now. Atsumu will continue to gape and breathe and nod with his mouth opening just a bit more as a thumb drags across his bottom lip. “Good.” 

Hummed low and calming, the word soothes over his skin. It brings him back and warms him all at once. He’s present again. His thoughts quiet but his heart pounds and his joints ache. 

“Omi,” He starts far softer than he wants. It makes him grimace a little, so he finally tips his head back down and puffs a deep breath toward the bed. “My knees hurt.”

The sigh that comes from Sakusa’s chest and ghosts along his ear feels like a gust of wind more than a breath. It’s heavy and exhausted, and even though Sakusa’s still moving it’s more of a grind than anything else. Atsumu knows he’s not breathless. That’s a  sad sigh. 

“You’re on a  mattress,  Atsumu. You’re fine.” 

He can’t help it. Now that he’s present, the ache all over his body feels like knives, he feels like he’s being pushed down by the weights they use at the gym. His heart hurts, his mind hurts, his  knees  hurt. So he stretches out against the sheets, grabs a fistfull of fabric on either side of his head and tugs, rubbing his cheek down in a way he hopes is endearing but knows isn’t. 

“Omi...” 

“Stop,” Sakusa growls, thrusting a little harsher, a little longer- just enough to make Atsumu’s breath catch in his throat and his fingers to tighten in fabric. 

Shut up. Stay here. Don’t go anywhere else. 

...but his knees hurt… 

“C’mon ‘mi I-“ 

A hand covers his mouth before anything else can get out and Atsumu’s eyes fly wide, staring at the dark wood of Sakusa’s headboard. Holy shit he’s being gagged. He’s never been gagged before, why is it so hot-

Fuck.  Fuck. 

Sakusa’s pace picks up a  lot . Enough to make his eyes squeeze shut, to make his nose strain taking in enough air. It feels like his stomach is gonna  bruise,  how the hell can Sakusa even  get this deep?

“That’s  much better,” oh, his voice is coming heavier now- quicker- dark against Atsumu’s ear. “Don’t you think?” 

“ Mmmph!” 

He’s not so sure what he means by the muffled noise, if he agrees or disagrees, but it comes out automatically. Cracked and desperate. Sakusa huffs, and Atsumu’s hips jump down towards the bed. He likes this now. The friction feels good. His whole body feels like a live wire, and he can’t remember if he’s ever felt like this before. Did Hinata ever-

Out of nowhere he feels this soft press of lips against the side of his neck.

Everything comes to a soft halt in his mind. 

Sakusa just kissed his neck. 

Sakusa just kissed his neck,  softly. 

It almost felt loving. Affectionate. And Atsumu tries to turn his head to look into those black holes of eyes, try and read them, because if this is real Atsumu might honestly just start balling right there on the bed. He cranes his neck to try and turn but Sakusa seems to snap into himself, and uses his huge hand on Atsumu’s mouth to keep him still. Almost like he feels the need to erase what he’d done, a harsh bite is placed in the same place the kiss was. Harsh enough to make Atsumu yelp, to make him jump and squirm until the teeth are gone. 

“MMmm~” he means to say ‘ow’ but he can’t. God he’s hard. 

...was that planned? Did Sakusa  mean to kiss him? Was it heat of the moment, was it gentle reassurance? 

Atsumu squeezes his eyes shut with another choked noise as Sakusa fucks him harder. Like he’s trying to erase the kiss, trying to push the memory from Atsumu’s mind with his cock- with his hips.

Yeah, no. Atsumu feels his head going limp against Sakusa’s palm, his body giving into the pressure in his gut and … and the  pleasure he feels. No, Hinata never made him feel like this. How is it possible for a person to feel used  and cared for at the same time? 

“You gotta relax Tsum,” Hinata’s voice is soft against the skin of his thigh. Even two fingers feel like an unwanted intrusion. 

“M tryin-“

“NN-MMMGH!” 

Sakusa slams into him so hard and so deep that Atsumu  shouts  into the palm of his hand. His eyes are wide and blearily focused on the wall in front of him. Fuck. That’s deep. Sakusa’s hand is so tight around his face that it’s starting to hurt his cheeks.

“ Hey.” 

Atsumu  squeezes  his fists together in the sheets. God Sakusa sounds angry. He’s  angry.  It’s not like Atsumu  meant  to zone out and fade into his past. The past is all he’s had lately. No matter how hard he tries, everything reminds him of it. Every fucking spec of his wardrobe, every practice, every meal. Sex was bound to be included in that. It’s not  his fault. It’s not.

“Listen to me very closely, Atsumu,” a dark pur against his temple has his eyes fluttering shut again as his heart picks up pace. He nods quickly, he’s listening. 

“If I’m inside you, and you’re under me, I don’t want you thinking about anything else. Any one  else. Understand?” 

Sakusa lets go of his mouth and Atsumu falls to the bed with a gasp. He’s drowning. He can’t get enough air. He’s sore and stretched and tingly and he wants to cum. “Y-eah. Got it.” 

“Good.”

Atsumu’s whine is involuntary and breathless, but he can’t even care about it too much. Sakusa’s  inside him. He doesn’t need to think about anything else. 

The next pull and push of hips have him wincing though. It pushes his knees into the bed. He wants to touch himself- no, he wants  Sakusa to touch him. It would make this better. If he could get off his knees, if a warm hand wrapped around him with the firm roll and the cock inside him...

“Uh O-Omi-“

“Fine.” 

And just like that, Atsumu isn’t exactly sure how Sakusa does it, but he’s on his back in a matter of seconds. Sakusa doesn’t even pull out for more than a second to do it. He just flips Atsumu like a doll, and the next thing he knows he’s staring up at curly black hair and dark eyes. 

Atsumu watches in seemingly slow motion- lagging- as large pale hands wrap around the back of his thighs and push his legs back. Watches as the bend of his knees fall into the bend of Sakusa’s elbows, like they’re made to fit together. 

Black irises, bigger now, flicker up to his gaze and meet him. Sakusa rolls his hips, pushing deeper again, making Atsumu gasp and fight the urge to let his eyes flutter shut. He doesn’t want to close his eyes anymore, he wants to keep looking. He has this sudden flutter of annoyance because he feels like he hasn’t been  looking  enough. 

Because Sakusa is.. he’s unexpectedly  beautiful. He’s  actually  stunning. Atsumu can’t stop watching the way that one long curl on his forehead bobs a few times against his pale skin. His eyes are dark, dark in the middle- dark around the edges- dark eyelashes that would make any girl Atsumu’s ever known jealous to the point of rage. His skin is so flawless he almost looks porcelain. 

Dark brows furrow slightly, a sharp chin tilts up and Atsumu’s fingers twitch on the pillow above his head where his hands landed. 

“Better, you spoiled brat?”

Atsumu purses his lips just a bit. Just enough to puff his cheeks out as his heart crawls up into his throat. He nods slowly, looking up under his lashes even though he isn't sure if the face he’s making is a pout from arousal or embarrassment. “Y-yeah,” he breathes, weak and strained.

Sakusa blinks at him, his eyes stay narrowed. 

A dip down, and their lips are a hairs length away. Atsumu holds his breath like his life depends on it, his eyes almost going crossed with the close proximity of their faces. He feels himself clench down, feels the weight of Sakusa inside him and resists shuddering. It’s strange. 

Sakusa breathes hotly against his lips, something that must be on purpose. It  must be. 

“Good. No more childish complaints?” 

Atsumu shakes his head mindlessly with the little amount of space he has. Complaints? No, no. There’s nothing wrong with him at all right now. 

Sakusa hums against his lips- tilts just close enough to make Atsumu’s eyes finally close, heart racing in preparation for another one of those strange, fleeting kisses. But then there’s a draw out, and a push back in so deep Atsumu’s head is throwing itself back and instead of a kiss all he registers is his own choked, whiny moan. 

“F-uck-“ Atsumu wheezes. His head spins as Sakusa’s hips pick up pace again, as his thighs tense with the pressure of it. “ Omi-“

“ God .”

It’s sort of scornful, Atsumu thinks. Thick and heavy and painful sounding. He’d probably find himself wanting to press for further information if he wasn’t steadily losing all train of thought. 

Sakusa leans further down, pressing his forehead into the crook of Atsumu’s neck and immediately his thighs tense and strain with ache at the way it bends him. Atsumu pushes back without meaning to, his legs straightening out on their own accord and it causes a strange jolt of panic in him when Sakusa sits back up and looks down at his left thigh.

“S-sorry I didn’t mean ta,” he gasps, trying to get a solid breath back into his chest. He doesn’t want to keep stopping, he doesn’t want to disappoint- 

“It’s fine,” Sakusa says calmly, quietly. Atsumu blinks up at him. “We can work on it.”

“Work on wha- oh.”

Sakusa moves his legs to hook around his hips, and then slides back in in such a deep motion Atsumu sorta feels like his guts get pushed around with it a little. His ankles hook together automatically and Sakusa ducks back down, chest to chest- holding himself up on his elbow next to Atsumu’s head. He feels teeth nip at his earlobe and he’s certain he shivers but he can’t find it in him to care. 

“How’s that?” 

Sakusa’s free hand slides down, then grabs firmly to the muscle of his thigh and holds it tight. Keeping it up, even as he starts moving with purpose again and Atsumu isn’t sure he’d be able to keep it up by himself. 

“Ah...uh.. hnn!” Atsumu’s teeth clatter together and he shivers so violently he’s a little embarrassed. His arms wrap around Sakusa’s neck and cling to the back of his shoulders for dear life. His body is rocking, being shoved and pushed forward and backward with each snap of hips. 

“Answer me.” a bitter bite against the side of his neck and Atsumu feels a zing in the tip of his cock. Holy shit. 

“ G-ood- ” he gasps. “Feels.. G-oo-” 

He can’t form a sentence now even if he wanted to. There’s no way. Every inch of him is buzzing and restless and tingly. He wants to dig his nails into the pale skin under his fingers but he knows that wouldn’t end well. He just has to take it. 

For a while, time fades. Actually, it might not be that long at all, but Atsumu can’t tell. There’s no way for him to know, even if he wanted to. His mind has never been so blissfully quiet in his entire life. All he can register is how the ache in his own cock keeps growing with each harsh, strong thrust of Sakusa inside him. 

There’s another nip at the skin of his neck and Atsumu hears his own moan in delayed time. He feels like he might die- like he might split up the middle, but it also feels  good. Warm.

“Who knew you could be this obedient, Atsumu.” Sakusa grumbles into his skin, breathless and strained. 

“-mmi,” he whines, his legs thrash against their own hold and Sakusa’s grip. He suddenly feels too tingly. Too full, like he’s gonna burst, and not in the normal way. He can't tell if he has to piss or if he’s about to cum and both are equally as embarrassing. “Omi-”

“What?” 

Atsumu’s jaw clenches again, sharp arousal lancing out to his fingertips. What is happening to him? Sakusa  talks  now and he’s already about to fuckin bust? 

Another bite. “What is it? Are you close?” 

Atsumu’s trembling now, he’s pretty sure. Desperate to hold back  whatever the fuck  the warmth in his groin is. “D-dunno.. I dunno if I-”

“It's okay,” the hand not holding his leg suddenly grabs the side of his hair and  holds his head down. It hurts but he’s pretty sure he just moaned because of it too. “Go on. Let it go.” 

“Omi-” a choke on air. His eyes squeeze tighter shut. “Cant- I can’t..I-“

“You can. You will.” Sakusa tugs at his earlobe with his teeth again and Atsumu thrashes. 

He whines. Honestly he’s pretty sure he’s never made such a pathetic noise in his whole life, but it’s involuntary. His cock throbs on his stomach and he’s shaking constantly, but he  can’t.  It hurts. It’s too much. He’s scared. 

But  oh -

Sakusa is touching him. His hand is hot and slides wetness down from the tip of his cock and god- god  Atsumu’s going to actually pass out right now, really- 

“That’s it,” a purr in his ear. “Be a good boy and let go, Atsumu.” 

It’s not up to him at all. He’s starting to think it never was in the first place, that if anything, holding it back for as long as he has just made it all the more consuming. 

It starts with an entire body shudder, and Atsumu thinks for a moment that his dick might fall off completely. It’s burning up, all over, and the only way Atsumu knows he’s coming at all is because he can hear a coo in his ear and feel warmth shooting up and hitting his chest in time with Sakusa’s thrusts. He feels manic for a moment, and he  squirms , limbs filled with more energy than he knows what to do with. He squirms and thrashes and squeaks, and Sakusa just holds him still. 

And it doesn't seem to stop. Atsumu thinks it stops, but then Sakusa fucks into him again and he cums more. More and more until it's staticy and it  burns.

He finds it in him to angle his hips away. Sakusa barely even budges, if anything Atsumu’s pretty sure he just thrusts faster. He’s panting into Atsumu’s neck like his whining is  encouraging.

“ Omi- ” he wheezes, unable to catch a breath, tears are prickling at the corners of his eyes and his bottom lip trembles. Everything feels like a livewire. He feels anxious and uncomfortable and sensitive. “Too-mu-”

“ Shhh ,” Sakusa is far too breathless. He fucks harder and Atsumu makes a sound much too loud for how exhausted he feels. He shivers again. He’s gonna black out. “I’ve got you.” 

Atsumu takes a sharp breath- something like clarity.

Sakusa’s got him? He blinks blearily up at the ceiling. He can feel his body rocking still, feel Sakusa’s mouth pressed against his neck and his hand in his hair. No one has had him in... in a long time… he hasn’t belonged to anyone in…

He’s been on his own for a long time. He  is  no one’s. 

...but he can let Sakusa have him, maybe. For a little while. 

“Ah-” Sakusa breathes, pulls out and Atsumu’s whole body  jumps with the sudden loss. “ Fuck.” 

Sakusa cums on his stomach. It joins the mess Atsumu already made there. Atsumu’s head tilts back into the pillow and his back arches up on it’s own accord. It feels strangely nice, actually. Sakusa’s breathing is heavy and it’s like music to him. 

Atsumu doesn’t flinch when Sakusa’s hand curls around his waist. He does blink his eyes open and look though, when that hand shifts and a long thumb drags through the wetness on his skin. He watches Sakusa’s pale finger slide through white, watches the contrast of it against his own natural tan. 

He spares a glance up. Sakusa’s black eyes are watching his own hand in a daze, sitting up on his knees, looming. He looks out of it, entranced. Atsumu swallows, slowly starting to come back into his own skin. He’s suddenly parched. He takes a breath. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t ever seen Sakusa so at ease around him before. 

“If ya think I’m that pretty Omi, you can just say so,” he smirks. His voice is more shot than he’d care to admit. 

Sakusa’s deep inhale of annoyance is  immediate. His eyes flutter shut and his brows draw together in that signature way they always do, and for whatever reason Atsumu feels his heart swell in his chest at the look. 

Sakusa sits back on the mattress, he brings his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose like an old geezer. “Back to being intolerable already?” 

“Was I bein’ tolerable before?” Atsumu smiles, relaxes into the pillows and closes his eyes. 

“I wouldn’t go quite that far.”

Atsumu breathes out the most genuine laugh he can remember in months. So honest. 

Sakusa shifts but Atsumu’s eyes feel far too heavy for him to look up. His limbs feel heavy too, heavy like they do after a really exhausting volleyball match. He feels melted. Content. Maybe he’s still a little drunk, cause that would explain it pretty well. 

For whatever reason, as Sakusa sits down next to him, Atsumu is hit with a ton of bricks.  Reality . There’s no way he can pretend they didn’t hook up after this. He knows Sakusa will regret this, but there’s no way he  won’t  think about this next time they’re in the locker room together. He should at least warn him. Prepare himself for inevitable denial.

“I’m gonna go ahead and apologize, Omi-” a deep breath. “‘Cause I don’t think I can forget or pretend like this didn’t happen.”

His words hang in the air and then he feels black daggers dig into the side of his face. He can’t tell why, but he’s sure he’s in for it. He keeps his eyes  tightly  closed. 

“Why would you need to apologize for that?” 

Atsumu’s eye twitches. 

“I let you follow me here.  I  kissed you first.  I  fucked you- is your brain that tiny? What part of that makes you assume I’d want to act like it never happened?”

“I dunno.” It’s spit out before he can help it, like whatever pride kept his filter in place  before has completely disappeared. “Thought maybe it was all a joke.”

“An elaborate joke for your shit humor.” Sakusa’s tone is bitter, but quiet. It sounds like distaste but it’s strangely endearing and for some reason it makes Atsumu feel at ease again. 

“Or maybe you’d regret everythin’ after seein’ how ugly I look when I cum.”

The very obvious pause is enough to make the ego spread through Atsumu’s limbs. How cute. “Oh? No response?” Atsumu peaks one of his eyes open, giving another pry just for the hell of it. Sakusa is  scowling  off at the side of the bed. Atsumu relaxes further and bends his hands behind his head with a smirk. “That’s very tellin’.”

“ God , shut up.”

“Nah, nah, tell me I’m sexy, Omi.”

“You have the sex appeal of a rotting fish blended up and poured over broken glass and wet hair.”

Atsumu’s chest is filled with glee and something that sort of reminds him of butterflies, and he hums happily. He can practically feel Sakusa vibrating in annoyance now. He’s so fun to bicker with. “Yer flattery is ruining my afterglow.”

“You ruined it yourself once you opened that gigantic, flapping mouth.” A despicable snap. The bed lifts as Sakusa stands from it and Atsumu’s one open eye is scanning over a freckled back. 

“I’m getting you a towel.” That dismissive gaze is thrown over Sakusa’s shoulder, making a once over of Atsumu’s still very messy torso. 

Atsumu hums in acknowledgement as Sakusa walks briskly away. He sighs, melts into the sheets further. He isn’t sure if he’s felt this at ease in a while. He thinks of nothing but the smell of detergent and light mint wafting around the room. It smells clean and fresh and it’s nothing like Atsumu is used to and it’s  nice.  Like the definition of refreshing. 

Sakusa comes back. He stands at the edge of the bed and tosses the towel onto Atsumu’s stomach. Atsumu tries to smile but his back is turned again before he can. He strides over to his dresser and grabs a fresh pair of boxers. Atsumu barely even notices how the towel is doused in warm water as he drags it across his skin. He feels out of it and all he can focus on is how Sakusa is still rustling around in the drawer even after covering himself up. 

Atsumu drops the towel when he’s done. He watches, dazed, as Sakusa turns back and walks over to him. A pair of boxers- not his own- are dropped next to his thigh and it takes him embarrassingly long to process what it means. 

Sakusa blinks down at him, face set in hard lines. “You fucking wash them before returning them.”

Atsumu nods blankly. He’s not  homeless . He smells nice most of the time. Of course he’ll wash-

“And get under the covers. You’ll get cold after an orgasm like that. I’m taking a shower.”

He’s gone again. Atsumu blinks at the bathroom door, then down at the briefs laying next to his hand, then back up at the door. Was that a  caring  thing Sakusa just did?

“What part of that makes you assume I’d want to act like it never happened?”

Atsumu grabs the fabric. He flops down onto his back and holds it up above him, staring at it as hard as he can, like if he looks hard enough he’ll be able to figure it out. They’re just boxers. They’re  just boxers. It’s just… a justified reward for letting Sakusa drill him like that. He deserves it. Yeah. 

He hears the shower turn on, and a shiver  racks his body completely out of the blue. Finally, he isn’t sweating.

He glares at the closed bathroom door in sheer spite. Stupid Sakusa. How’d he know Atsumu would get cold? Does this happen to him or his partners a lot? 

Does Sakusa… have a lot of partners?

Wait, why the fuck does Atsumu care. He doesn’t. He huffs, swallows, and pulls the boxers over his still weak feeling legs before shuffling himself under the covers. It’s warm. Minty. Calming. 

He doesn’t care about much of anything. 

Actually. Atsumu  does  care. 

It’s frustrating because even once Sakusa is behind him in bed, under the same covers, not even a foot away, he can’t  stop caring .

He’s down from whatever sort of intoxication he had before, from whatever post-nut bliss. Normally, that would be fine, but he can’t stop thinking. Thinking about the boxers, about how calmly and dismissively Sakusa crawled into bed after his shower; and contradictingly, how he’s letting Atsumu not only stay overnight, but sleep  in the same fucking bed.  Atsumu doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know if it means anything at all. 

He also keeps drifting to the nauseating thought of other people sleeping where he is. Kageyama is sleeping where Atsumu used to sleep, right now. Is he taking someone else’s place like that? Does he want to know; does he even have any right to ask? 

“Atsumu.” 

He tenses up. Freezes, plays dead. He’s asleep, he swears.

“You need to go to sleep.” Damn it. Sakusa isn’t moving but his voice is even like he’s been awake for a while. Atsumu pouts.

“I could be asleep- you dunno.” A stretch, sure.  But . 

“Your weird breathing is annoying.” Sakusa sighs. Atsumu’s heart races in embarrassment and annoyance and his pout deepens even though he’s the only one who knows it’s there. Fine. Atsumu stays still, holds his breath. He’s a great fucking actor-

“You’re  not  asleep. Shut up and sleep.”

Atsumu flips around to glare at the back of a curly head. Prick. “I wasn’t even talking - ”

“ Atsumu -”

Atsumu scoffs and flops back down on his side as obnoxiously as he can. He doesn’t know why, but he wants to stay up. He feels reckless and frustrated and grumpy and Sakusa’s pissy attitude is only making it worse. If he hadn't said anything in the first place  Atsumu would’ve just sat there and stayed docile. So it’s his fault, really. 

The lack of response to his pouting makes him angrier. He lifts up and flops back down harshly again- nothing. He grunts and kicks at the sheets- nothing. He sighs deeply, thrashes onto his side to face Sakusa and  glare  at the back of his head. 

Finally, there’s a tired sigh, though he still doesn’t move. “What do you want, Atsumu.”

“Nothin’.”

Sakusa sighs again. Atsumu keeps his gaze harsh and focused until Sakusa finally turns and looks at him. His dark eyes take one look at his face, trail down to his curled body, and then he’s fully twisting and lying on his back. Atsumu’s heart leaps. He won. 

Wait, what did he win again? What does he even want? 

Sakusa scoffs, and his eyes fall closed once again. Then he raises his arm up on the pillows- presenting a space for Atsumu to scoot into. To  cuddle  into. 

Oh.  Oh.  Atsumu’s eyes are heavy but they widen anyways. 

Who knew  that  was gonna happen? Sakusa offering physical touch? Is Atsumu dreaming right now? Is it some kind of ploy to get him close enough for Sakusa to strangle him? 

Sakusa’s face sours. “The offer isn’t going to be extended much longer, Miya.”

“Why y’only call me that when yer pissed?” 

His heart is racing, but he- He’d be a fool to not take up an opportunity like this, right? He hasn’t cuddled with anything in a while. It’s been too hot- he’s been too alone. He scoots in, lays his head on Sakusa’s shoulder and his hand on his ribcage. His skin is warm under his cheek. 

“I am pissed.”

“ Why-” Atsumu squeaks, trying to lift his head and feign offense but Sakusa just wraps his arm around his shoulders and holds him down 

“You’re too needy.”

Atsumu scoffs, his pout making his face hurt it’s so deep. He snuggles into Sakusa’s hold in pure spite. “I didn’t say nothin’.  You offered this.” 

“Go the fuck to sleep, Atsumu.”

It’s bitter, but soft now. Atsumu bites his lip, and despite his desire to call out the obvious affection and obvious change of subject, he wills himself to close his eyes and relax a little. He sorta always thought Sakusa would be boney. He gives off that vibe, despite being a pro volleyball player, he always looks oddly frail. Atsumu always thought he sort of looked sickly, from most distances. His skin is too pale for his eyes and hair. 

He’s not boney though. He’s soft and warm. Even his shoulder feels cushiony enough against his cheek to fall asleep. Exhaustion pulls at him for the first time tonight- for the first time in ages. He’s always tired, but never exhausted. Never calm enough to feel content enough to float into sleep like this. 

Sakusa’s breathing is even and shallow. He smells like soap and shampoo, even on his chest. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Short, curt. Sakusa’s apology pushes the lightest breeze across his head. Atsumu holds his breath in fear that it won’t be real if he moves at all- if Sakusa realizes he’s still awake. Maybe it was a mistake. 

When he does breathe, it's shaky and weak, and somehow, Sakusa doesn’t take it back. Atsumu tries not to bite his cheek too hard. “Sorry?”

“...about what happened. You’re a real asshole sometimes but- you didn’t deserve that.” He says, dead quiet. Atsumu must be dreaming. This isn’t Sakusa Kiyoomi, is it? Why does his voice sound so deep and real, if it’s a dream? Why does it sound so bitterly  honest? Atsumu slowly blinks his eyes back open, his face starting to feel hot. 

“Someone who would do that to you-” Sakusa continues, even quieter. There’s some sort of resentment there that Atsumu doesn’t want to read into. “-they don’t deserve you either.” 

And Atsumu doesn’t know what to say. That bittersweet air is back, awkward and strained but still somehow nice. He sniffs, scratches under his nose- at a loss. It’s sweet, he thinks. He wants to point out that Sakusa treats him no better than anyone else- nor should he. But he holds his tongue. This is strange. Strange that Sakusa is here with him in the first place, haphazardly holding him; strange that he’s apologizing on behalf of Atsumu’s bullshit romantic life. 

Strange, but sweet.

“Thanks, Omi,” Atsumu says, taking a deep breath. “I know sayin’ that musta been real nauseating for ya.”

“ No .” 

Atsumu freezes again. Sakusa sighs, strained, like he’s conflicted and annoyed. “...no. It’s been pestering me ever since you told me.” 

A deep breath. It’s so  strange.  “Uh...why though? Ya never cared before, about Sho and me.”

“ I don’t know -” another light sigh- “I don't know why, Atsumu. Can you go to sleep now, or are you  that  insistent on testing my patience.”

Atsumu huffs a laugh. He’s tired too, but this is too rare; the whole thing. Sakusa breathing the same air as him, holding him, being  sort of  vulnerable and empathetic. 

“Well if it's any reconciliation to ya, I feel better right now than I have since it happened.” 

He figures he should be vulnerable too. Maybe it's just the exhaustion, though. 

“...I think that means you’re just too easy to gratify.”

“Mmm. Maybe.” 

Maybe he’s lonely. Maybe he’s glad he’s  not alone.

Atsumu doesn't exactly expect the conversation to continue after that. He can tell sleep is pulling at them both too heavily now, burnt out passion and emotions weighing them down. 

“‘Night, Omi,” he breathes lightly. He feels muscles jump under his touch but it’s sort of endearing. He finds himself wondering if Sakusa has ever had anyone tell him goodnight, given that reaction. 

“G-goodnight.” A quiet rumble under his cheek. It almost doesn’t sound real. It’s  pretty .

Atsumu lets out a deep breath, and mentally resolves to make Sakusa breakfast in the morning. 

Atsumu blinks the world back into view, groggy. It's hot- too hot. Too sweaty. He forgets how suffocating summer can be far too often, even still. 

Each morning Atsumu wakes up starfished on the mattress-  alone- hot- otiose- sweaty- he feels more exhausted each day, more fed up but somehow more apathetic.  But this time, when he wakes up, he’s  not  alone. 

This time, Sakusa Kiyoomi is spread out right next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tired laughter* finally,,, 5 months in the making,,, 
> 
> Thank you all for your support on this. It means a lot to both of us, and knowing ourselves we'll probably be back with more. 
> 
> Love always, Lo and Bee

**Author's Note:**

> You can find us on twitter:  
> [ @scuttlebuttles](https://twitter.com/scuttlebuttles?s=17)  
> [ @writingboom](https://twitter.com/writingboom?s=17)


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